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PRINCETON    •    NEW  JERSEY 

my7v  CK* 
PRESENTED  BY 

the  widow  of  George  Dugan,  '96 

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THE      GOSPEL 


ACCORDING   TO 


ST.    LUKE. 


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Br  the  nrv. 


HENRY     BURTON,     M.  A. 


Eim  petit 
A.  C.  ARMSTRONG    AND    SON 

51  East  10th  Street,  near  Broadway 

1807 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   L 

PAG  I 
1HE  GENESIS   OF   THE   GOSPEL  .••••.! 


CHAPTER   II. 
THE   MUTE    PRIEST.  ....••••      15 

CHAPTER   III. 

THE  GOSPEL  PSALMS  ..•••••      29 

CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  VIRGIN    MOTHER         .....  #  .47 

CHAPTER   V. 

THE   ADORATION    OF   THE   SHEPHERDS  .  .  *  .      67 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS     ......      80 

CHAPTER   VII. 

THE   TEMPTATION     •••..••••   I05 

CHAPTER  VI IL 

THE  GOSPEL   OF    THE  JUBILEE  •••••«   128 


ri  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    IX. 

PAGX 
A  SABBATH    IN   GALILEE  ...«••  148 

CHAPTER    X. 
THE   CALLING   OF  THE   FOUR  .  •  •  «  •  •  •   1 62 

CHAPTER    XI. 
CONCERNING   PRAYER #  .177 

CHAPTER    XIL 
THF   FAITH   OF  THE   CENTURION       .»•»..   195 

CHAPTER    XIII. 
THE  ANOINTING   OF  THE   FEET  .•••••   2O0. 

CHAPTER    XIV. 
THE  PARABLE   OF  THE   SOWER  .  .  .  #  «  .225 

CHAPTER    XV. 
THE   KINGDOM   OF  GOD    .  .  .  0  .  «  .  24 1 

CHATTER    XVI. 
THE   MIRACLES   OF   HEALING   .  ..••••  255 

CHAPTER    XVII. 
THE    MIRACLE  OF  THE   LOAVES        .«••••  269 

CHAPTER    XVIIL 
THE  TRANSFIGURATION  .  .  .  .  #  #  #  *28l 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN    ....••*.  «<U 


CONTENTS.  vii 

CHAPTER    XX. 

PAGE 
THE  TWO   SISTERS  .........   306 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
LOST  AND   FOUND «...   317 

CHAPTER    XXII. 
THE   ETHICS   OF  THE   GOSrEL  .  ......   336 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE   ESCHATOLOGY   OF   THE  GOSPEL 352 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE   W4TCH    IN    GETHSERIANE  ......   364 

CHAPTER    XXV. 
THE   PASSION  .  •  •  •  377 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 
THE  FIRST  LOUD* 5   DAY  .  .  ,  .  .  »  ,    <00 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 

THE  four  walls  and  the  twelve  gates  of  the  Seer 
looked  in  different  directions,  but  together  they 
guarded,  and  opened  into,  one  City  of  God.  So  the 
four  Gospels  look  in  different  directions;  each  has  its  own 
peculiar  aspect  and  inscription  ;  but  together  they  lead 
towards,  and  unveil,  one  Christ,  "  which  is,  and  which 
was,  and  which  is  to  come,  the  Almighty."  They  are  the 
successive  quarterings  of  the  one  Light.  We  call  them 
"four"  Gospels,  though  in  reality  they  form  but  one, 
just  as  the  seven  arches  of  colour  weave  one  bow ;  and 
that  there  should  be  four,  and  not  three  or  five,  was 
the  purpose  and  design  of  the  Mind  which  is  above  all 
minds.  There  are  "  diversities  of  operations  "  even  in 
making  Testaments,  New  or  Old ;  but  it  is  one  Spirit 
who  is  "over  all,  and  in  all ;"  and  back  of  all  diversity 
is  a  heavenly  unity — a  unity  that  is  not  broken,  but 
rather  beautified,  by  the  variety  of  its  component  parts. 
Turning  to  the  third  Gospel,  its  opening  sentences 
strike  a  key-note  unlike  the  tone  of  the  other  three. 
Matthew,  the  Levite  Apostle,  schooled  in  the  receipt 
of  custom — where  parleying  and  preambling  were  not 
allowed — goes  to  his  subject  w?ith  sharp  abruptness, 
beginning  his  story  with  a  "genesis,"  "the  book  of  the 
generation  of  Jesus  Christ."  Mark,  too,  and  John, 
without  staying  for  any  prelude,  proceed  at  once  to 

i 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 


their  portrayals  of  the  Divine  Life,  each  starting 
with  the  same  word  "  beginning  " — though  between  the 
u  beginning  "  of  St.  Mark  and  that  of  St.  John  there  is 
room  for  an  eternity.  St.  Luke,  on  the  other  hand, 
stays  to  give  to  his  Gospel  a  somewhat  lengthy  preface, 
a  kind  of  vestibule,  where  wre  become  acquainted 
with  the  presence  and  personality  of  the  verger,  before 
passing  within  the  temple  proper. 

It  is  true  the  Evangelist  dees  not  here  inscribe  his 
name ;  it  is  true  that  after  inserting  these  lines  of 
explanation,  he  loses  sight  of  himself  completely,  with 
a  "sublime  repressing  of  himself"  such  as  John  did 
not  know ;  but  that  he  here  throws  the  shadow  of  him- 
self upon  the  page  of  Scripture,  calling  the  attention  of 
all  people  and  ages  to  the  "me  also,"  shows  clearly 
that  the  personal  element  cannot  be  eliminated  from  the 
question  of  inspiration.  Light  is  the  same  in  its  nature; 
it  moves  only  in  straight  lines ;  it  is  governed  by  fixed 
laws ;  but  in  its  reflections  it  is  infinitely  varied,  turn- 
ing to  purple,  blue,  or  gold,  according  to  the  nature  of 
the  medium  and  reflecting  substance.  And  what,  indeed, 
is  beauty,  what  the  harmony  of  colours,  but  the  visible 
music  as  the  same  light  plays  upon  the  diverse  keys? 
Exactly  the  same  law  rule*,  in  inspiration.  As  the 
Divine  Love  needed  an  incarnation,  an  inshrining  in 
human  flesh,  that  the  Divine  Word  might  be  vocal,  so 
the  Divine  Light  needs  its  incarnation  too.  Indeed,  we 
can  scarcely  conceive  of  any  revelation  of  the  Divine 
Mind  but  as  coming  through  a  human  irind.  It  needs 
the  human  element  to  analyze  and  to  throw  it  forward, 
just  as  the  electric  spark  needs  the  dull  carbon-point  to 
make  it  visible.  Heaven  and  earth  are  here,  as  else- 
where, "  threads  of  the  same  loom,"  and  if  we  take  out 
one,  even  the  earthly  woof  of  the  humanities,  we  leave 


THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 


only  a  tangle  ;  and  if  it  is  true  of  works  of  art  that  "  to 
know  them  we  must  know  the  man  who  produced  them/' 
it  is  equally  important,  if  we  would  know  the  Scripture, 
that  we  have  some  knowledge  of  the  scribe.  And 
especially  important  is  it  here,  for  there  are  few  books 
of  Scripture  on  which  the  writer's  own  personality  is 
more  deeply  impressed  than  on  the  Gospel  of  St.  Luke. 
The  "me  also"  is  only  legible  in  the  third  verse,  but 
we  may  read  it,  between  the  lines,  through  the  whole 
Gospel. 

Concerning  the  life  of  St.  Luke  the  facts  are  few. 
It  has  been  thought  by  some  that  he  was  one  of  the 
"  certain  Greeks  "  who  came  to  Jerusalem  to  worship  ; 
while  others,  again,  suppose  him  to  be  the  nameless  one 
of  the  two  Eramaus  travellers.  But  both  these  sup- 
positions are  set  aside  by  the  fact  that  the  Evangelist 
carefully  separates  himself  from  those  who  were  "  eye- 
witnesses," which  he  could  not  well  have  done  had  he 
taken  part  in  those  closing  scenes  of  the  Lord's  life,  or 
had  he  been  honoured  with  that  "infallible  proof"  of  the 
Lord's  resurrection.  That  he  was  a  Gentile  is  evident ; 
his  speech  bewrayeth  him ;  for  he  speaks  with  a  Grecian 
accent,  while  Greek  idioms  are  sprinkled  over  his  pages. 
Indeed,  St.  Paul  speaks  of  him  as  not  being  of  the 
"circumcision"  (Col.  iv.  II,  14),  and  he  himself,  in 
Acts  i.  19,  speaks  of  the  dwellers  at  Jerusalem,  and 
the  Aceldama  of  "  their "  proper  tongue.  Tradition, 
with  unanimous  voice,  represents  him  as  a  native  of 
Antioch,  in  Syria. 

Responding  to  the  Divine  Voice  that  bids  him 
"  write,"  St.  Luke  brings  to  the  task  new  and  special 
qualifications.  Familiar  with  the  Old  Testament 
Scriptures — at  least  in  their  Septuagint  form,  as  his 
many  quotations  show-    intimately  acquainted  with  the 


THE   COS  PEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 


Hebrew  faith  and  ritual,  he  yet  brings  to  his  work  a 
mind  unwarped  by  its  traditions.  He  knows  nothing 
of  that  narrowness  of  spirit  that  Hebraism  uncon- 
sciously engendered,  with  its  insulation  from  the  great 
outer  world.  His  mount  of  vision  was  not  Mount  Zion, 
but  a  new  Pisgah,  lying  outside  the  sacred  borders, 
and  showing  him  "  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world,"  as 
the  Divine  thought  of  humanity  took  possession  of  him. 
And  not  only  so,  we  must  remember  that  his  connection 
with  Christianity  has  been  mainly  through  St.  Paul, 
who  was  the  Apoitle  of  the  "  uncircumcision."  For 
months,  if  not  for  years,  he  has  been  his  close  com- 
panion, reading  his  innermost  thoughts ;  and  so  long 
and  so  close  together  have  they  been,  their  two  hearts 
have  learned  to  beat  in  a  perfect  synchronism.  Besides, 
we  must  not  forget  that  the  Gentile  question — their 
status  in  the  new  kingdom,  and  the  conditions  demanded 
of  them — had  been  the  burning  question  of  the  early 
Church,  and  that  it  was  at  this  same  Antioch  it  had 
reached  its  height.  It  was  at  Antioch  the  Apostle  Peter 
had  "  dissembled,"  so  soon  forgetting  the  lessons  of 
the  Csesarean  Pentecost,  holding  himself  aloof  from  the 
Gentile  converts  until  Paul  felt  constrained  to  rebuke 
him  publicly ;  and  it  was  to  Antioch  came  the  decree 
of  the  Jerusalem  Council,  that  Magna  Charta  which 
recognized  and  enfranchised  manhood,  giving  the 
privileges  of  the  new  kingdom  to  Gentiles,  without 
imposing  upon  them  the  Judaic  anachronism  of  cir- 
cumcision. We  can  therefore  well  understand  the  bent 
of  St.  Luke's  mind  and  the  drift  of  his  sympathies ; 
and  we  may  expect  that  his  pen — though  it  is  a  reed 
shaken  with  the  breath  of  a  higher  inspiration — will 
at  the  same  time  move  in  the  direction  of  these 
sympathies. 


THE  GENESIS   OF  THE  GOSPEL. 


And  it  is  exactly  this — its  "  gentility,"  if  we  may  be 
allowed  to  give  a  new  accent  and  a  new  meaning  to  an 
old  word — that  is  a  prominent  feature  of  the  third 
Gospel.  Not,  however,  that  St.  Luke  decries  Judaism, 
or  that  he  denies  the  "advantage"  the  Jews  have;  he 
cannot  do  this  without  erasing  Scripture  and  silencing 
history ;  but  what  he  does  is  to  lift  up  the  Son  of  Man 
in  front  of  their  tabernacle  of  witness.  He  does  not 
level  down  Judaism  ;  he  levels  up  Christianity,  letting 
humanity  absorb  nationality.  And  so  the  Gospel  of 
St.  Luke  is  the  Gospel  of  the  world,  greeting  "all 
nations,  and  kindreds,  and  peoples,  and  tongues  "  with 
its  "  peace  on  earth."  St.  Matthew  traces  the  genealogy 
of  Christ  back  to  Abraham  ;  St.  Luke  goes  farther  back, 
to  the  fountain-head,  where  all  the  divergent  streams 
meet  and  mingle,  as  he  traces  the  descent  to  Adam,  the 
Son  of  God.  Matthew  shows  us  the  "  wise  men,"  lost 
in  Jerusalem,  and  inquiring,  "  Where  is  He  that  is  born 
King  of  the  Jews  ?  "  But  St.  Luke  gives,  instead,  the 
"  good  tidings  "  to  "  all  people  ;  "  and  then  he  repeats 
the  angel  song,  which  is  the  key-note  of  his  Gospel, 
"Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  .  .  .  goodwill  toward 
men."  It  is  St.  Luke  only  who  records  the  first 
discourse  at  Nazareth,  showing  how  in  ancient  times, 
even,  the  mercy  of  God  flowed  out  towards  a  Gentile 
widow  and  a  Gentile  leper.  St.  Luke  alone  mentions 
the  mission  of  the  Seventy,  whose  very  number  was  a 
prophecy  of  a  world-wide  Gospel,  seventy  being  the 
recognized  symbol  of  the  Gentile  world,  as  twelve 
stood  for  the  Hebrew  people.  St.  Luke  alone  gives 
us  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan,  showing  that 
all  the  virtues  did  not  reside  in  Israel,  but  that  there 
was  more  of  humanity,  and  so  more  of  Divinity,  in  the 
compassionate   Samaritan    than    in    their    priest    and 


THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 


Levite.  St.  Luke  alone  records  the  call  of  Zacchaeus, 
the  Gentile  publican,  telling  how  Jesus  cancelled  theii 
laws  of  heredity,  passing  him  up  among  the  sons  of 
Abraham.  St.  Luke  alone  gives  us  the  twin  parables 
of  the  lost  coin  and  the  lost  man,  showing  how  Jesus 
had  come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost, 
which  was  humanity,  here,  and  there,  and  everywhere. 
And  so  there  brcat' es  all  through  this  Gospel  a 
catholic  spirit,  more  pronounced  than  in  the  rest,  a 
spirit  whose  rhythm  and  deep  meaning  have  been 
caught  in  the  lines — 

"  There's  a  wideness  in  God's  mercy, 
Like  the  wideness  of  the  sea." 

The  only  other  fact  of  the  Evangelist's  life  we  will 
here  notice  is  that  of  his  profession  ;  and  we  notice 
this  simply  because  it  enters  as  a  factor  into  his  work, 
reappearing  there  frequently.  He  was  a  physician ; 
and  from  this  fact  some  have  supposed  that  he  was  a 
freedman,  since  many  of  the  Roman  physicians  were 
of  that  class.  But  this  by  no  means  follows.  All  phy- 
sicians were  not  freedmen  ;  while  the  language  and  style 
of  St.  Luke  show  him  to  be  an  educated  man,  one,  too, 
who  walked  in  the  upper  classes  of  society.  Where  he 
speaks  natively,  as  here  in  the  introduction,  he  uses 
a  pure  Greek,  somewhat  rounded  and  ornate,  in  which 
there  is  a  total  absence  of  those  rusticisms  common 
in  St.  Mark.  That  he  followed  his  calling  at  Troas, 
where  he  first  joined  St.  Paul,  is  probable ;  but  that  he 
practised  it  on  board  one  of  the  large  corn-ships  of  the 
Mediterranean  is  a  pure  conjecture,  for  which  even  his 
nautical  language  affords  no  presumption ;  for  one 
cannot  be  at  sea  for  a  few  weeks — especially  with  an 
observant  eye  and  attentive  ear,  as  St.  Luke's  were — 


THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  GOSPEL, 


without  falling  naturally  into  nautical  language.     One's 
speech  soon  tastes  of  salt. 

The  calling  of  a  physician  naturally  develops  cer- 
tain powers  of  analysis  and  synthesis.  It  is  the  art  of 
putting  things  together.  From  the  seen  or  felt  sym- 
toms  he  traces  out  the  unseen  cause.  Setting  down 
the  known  quantities,  by  processes  of  comparison  or  of 
elimination  he  finds  the  unknown  quantity,  which  is 
the  disease,  its  nature  and  its  seat.  And  so  on  the 
the  pages  of  the  third  Gospel  we  frequently  find  the 
shadow  of  the  physician.  It  appears  even  in  his  brief 
preface ;  for  as  he  sits  down  with  ample  materials 
before  him — on  one  side  the  first-hand  testimony  of 
11  eye-witnesses,"  and  on  the  other  the  many  and  some- 
what garbled  narratives  of  anonymous  scribes — we  see 
the  physician-Evangelist  exercising  a  judicious  selec- 
tion, and  thus  compounding  or  distilling  his  pure 
elixir.  Then,  too,  a  skilled  and  educated  physician 
would  find  easy  access  into  the  higher  circles  of 
society,  his  very  calling  furnishing  him  with  letters 
of  introduction.  And  so,  indeed,  we  find  it.  Our 
physician  dedicates  his  Gospel,  and  also  the  "Acts," 
to,  not  the  "  most  excellent,"  but  the  u  most  noble " 
Theophilus,  giving  to  him  the  same  title  that  he  after- 
wards gave  to  Felix  and  to  Festus.  Perhaps  its  English 
equivalent  would  be  "the  honourable."  At  any  rate 
it  shows  that  this  Theophilus  was  no  mere  myth,  a 
locution  for  any  "  friend  of  God,"  but  that  he  wTas  a 
person  of  rank  and  influence,  possibly  a  Roman  go- 
vernor. Then,  too,  St.  Luke's  mention  of  certain  names 
omitted  by  the  other  Evangelists,  such  as  Chuza  and 
Manaen,  would  suggest  that  probably  he  had  some 
personal  acquaintance  with  the  members  of  Herod's 
household.       Be   this   as   it   may,    we   recognize    the 


THE   GOSPEL  OF  ST.   LUKE. 


"physician"  in  St.  Luke's  habits  of  observation,  his 
attention  to  detail,  his  fondness  for  grouping  together 
resemblances  and  contrasts,  his  fuller  reference  to 
miracles  of  healing,  and  his  psychological  observations. 
We  find  in  him  a  student  of  the  humanities.  Even  in 
his  portrayal  of  the  Christ  it  is  the  human  side  of  the 
Divine  nature  that  he  emphasizes ;  while  all  through  his 
Gospel,  his  thought  of  humanity,  like  a  wide-reaching 
sky,  overlooks  and  embraces  all  such  earthly  distinc- 
tions as  position,  sex,  or  race. 

With  a  somewhat  high-sounding  word  "Forasmuch," 
which  here  makes  its  solitary  appearance  in  the  pages 
of  Scripture — a  word,  too,  which,  like  its  English 
equivalent,  is  a  treble  compound— the  Evangelist  calls 
our  attention  to  his  work,  and  states  his  reasons  for 
undertaking  it.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  fix  either 
the  date  or  the  place  where  this  Gospel  was  written, 
but  probably  it  was  some  time  between  a.d.  58-60. 
Now,  what  was  the  position  of  the  Church  at  that 
date,  thirty-five  years  after  the  Crucifixion  ?  The  fiery 
tongues  of  Pentecost  had  flashed  far  and  wide,  and 
from  their  heliogram  even  distant  nations  had  read  the 
message  of  peace  and  love.  Philip  had  witnessed  the 
wonderful  revival  in  "the  (a)  city  of  Samaria."  Antioch, 
Csesarea,  Damascus,  Lystra,  Philippi,  Athens,  Rome — 
these  names  indicate,  but  do  not  attempt  to  measure, 
the  wide  and  ever-widening  circle  of  light.  In  nearly 
every  town  of  any  size  there  is  the  nucleus  of  a  Church ; 
while  Apostles,  Evangelists,  and  Christian  merchants 
are  proclaiming  the  new  kingdom  and  the  new  laws 
everywhere.  And  since  the  visits  of  the  Apostles  would 
be  necessarily  brief,  it  would  only  be  a  natural  and 
general  wish  that  some  permanent  record  should  be 
made  of  their  narratives  and  teaching.     In  other  places, 


THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 


which  lay  back  of  the  line  of  Apostles'  travel,  the  story 
would  reach  them,  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  with 
all  the  additions  of  rumour,  and  exaggerations  of  Eastern 
loquacity.  It  is  to  these  ephemeral  Gospels  the  Evan- 
gelist now  refers ;  and  distinguishing,  as  he  does,  the 
"many"  from  the  "eye-witnesses"  and  "ministers  of 
the  word,"  he  shows  that  he  does  not  refer  to  the 
Gospels  of  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark — which  probably 
he  has  not  seen — for  one  was  an  Apostle,  and  both 
were  "  eye- witnesses."  There  is  no  censure  implied 
in  these  words,  nor  does  the  expression  "taken  in 
hand"  in  itself  imply  failure;  but  evidently,  to  St. 
Luke's  mind,  these  manifold  narratives  were  incomplete 
and  unsatisfactory.  They  contain  some  of  the  truth, 
but  not  all  that  the  wrorld  should  know.  Some  are  put 
together  by  unskilled  hands,  and  some  have  more  or 
less  of  fable  blended  with  them.  They  need  sifting, 
winnowing,  that  the  chaff  may  be  blown  away,  and  the 
seed  tares  separated  from  the  wheat.  Such  is  the 
physician's  reason  for  now  assuming  the  role  of  an 
Evangelist.  The  "forasmuch,"  before  being  entered 
on  the  pages  of  his  Scriptures,  had  struck  upon  the 
Evangelist's  soul,  setting  it  vibrating  like  a  bell,  and 
moving  mind  and  hand  alike  in  sympathy. 

And  so  we  see  how,  in  w7ays  simple  and  purely 
natural,  Scripture  grows.  St.  Luke  was  not  conscious 
of  any  special  influence  resting  upon  him.  He  did  not 
pose  as  an  oracle  or  as  the  mouthpiece  of  an  oracle, 
though  he  was  all  that,  and  vastly  more.  He  does  not 
even  know  that  he  is  doing  any  great  work;  and  who 
ever  does  ?  A  generous,  unselfish  thought  takes  pos- 
session of  him.  He  will  sacrifice  leisure  and  ease,  that 
he  may  throw  forward  to  others  the  light  that  has 
fallen  upon  his  own  heart  and  life.     He  will  be  a  truth- 


io  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

seeker,  and  a  light-bearer  for  others.  Here,  then,  we 
see  how  a  human  mind  falls  into  gear  with  the  Divine 
mind,  and  human  thought  gets  into  the  rhythm  and 
swing  of  the  higher  thought.  Simply  natural,  purely 
human  are  all  his  processes  of  reasoning,  comparing, 
and  planning,  and  the  whole  Gospel  is  but  the  perfect 
bloom  of  this  seed-thought.  But  whence  came  this 
thought  ?  That  is  the  question.  Did  it  not  grow  out 
of  these  manifold  narratives  ?  and  did  not  the  narra- 
tives themselves  grow  out  of  the  wonderful  Life,  the 
Life  which  was  itself  but  a  Divine  Thought  and  Word 
incarnate  ?  And  so  we  cannot  separate  heaven  from 
earth,  we  cannot  eliminate  the  Divine  from  even  our 
little  lives;  and  though  St.  Luke  did  not  recognize  it 
as  such — he  was  an  ordinary  man,  doing  an  ordinary 
thing — yet  we,  standing  a  few  centuries  back,  and 
seeing  how  the  Church  has  hidden  in  her  ark  the  omer 
of  manna  that  he  gathered,  to  be  carried  on  and  down 
till  time  itself  shall  be  no  more,  we  see  another 
Apocalyptic  vision,  and  we  hear  a  Voice  Divine  that 
commands  him  (t  write."  When  St.  Luke  wrote,  "  It 
seemed  good  to  me  also,"  he  doubtless  wrote  the  pro- 
noun small ;  for  it  was  the  "  me  "  of  his  obscure,  retiring 
self;  but  high  above  the  human  thought  we  see  the 
Divine  purpose,  and  as  we  watch,  the  smaller  "me" 
grows  into  the  ME,  which  is  a  shadow  of  the  great 
I  AM.  And  so  while  the  "many"  treatises,  those 
which  were  purely  human,  have  passed  out  of  sight, 
buried  deep  in  their  unknown  sepulchres,  this  Gospel 
has  survived  and  become  immortal — immortal  because 
God  was  back  of  it,  and  God  was  in  it. 

So  in  the  mind  of  St.  Luke  the  thought  ripens  into 
a  purpose.  Since  others  "  have  taken  in  hand "  to 
draw  up  a  narrative  concerning  those  matters  which 


THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  u 

have  been  "  fulfilled  among  us/'  he  himself  will  do  the 
same ;  for  has  he  not  a  special  fitness  for  the  task,  and 
peculiar  advantages  ?  He  has  long  been  intimately 
associated  with  those  who  from  the  very  first  were 
"  eye-witnesses  and  ministers  of  the  Word,"  the  chosen 
companion  of  one  Apostle,  and  doubtless,  owing  to  his 
visit  to  Jerusalem  and  to  his  prolonged  residence  at 
Coesarea,  personally  acquainted  with  the  rest.  His 
shall  not  be  a  Gospel  of  surmise  or  of  rumour ;  it  shall 
only  contain  the  record  of  facts — facts  which  he  himself 
has  investigated,  and  for  the  truth  of  which  he  gives 
his  guarantee.  The  clause  "having  traced  the  course 
of  all  things  accurately  from  the  first" — which  is  a 
more  exact  rendering  than  that  of  the  Authorized 
Version,  "having  had  perfect  understanding  of  all  things 
from  the  very  first" — shows  us  the  keen,  searching 
eye  of  the  physician.  He  looks  into  things.  He 
distinguishes  between  the  To  seem  and  the  To  be,  the 
actual  and  the  apparent.  He  takes  nothing  for  granted, 
but  proves  all  things.  He  investigates  his  facts  before 
he  endorses  them,  sounding  them,  as  it  were,  and 
reading  not  only  their  outer  voice,  which  may  be  as- 
sumed, and  so  untrue,  but  with  his  stethoscope  of 
patient  research  listening  for  the  unconscious  voices 
that  speak  within,  and  so  finding  out  the  reality.  He 
himself  is  committed  to  nothing.  He  is  not  anxious 
to  make  up  a  story.  Himself  a  searcher  after  truth, 
his  one  concern  is  to  know,  and  then  to  tell,  the  truth, 
naturally,  simply,  with  no  fictitious  adornment  or 
dressing  up  of  his  own.  And  having  submitted  the 
facts  cf  the  Divine  Life  to  a  close  scrutiny,  and  satis- 
fied himself  of  their  absolute  truth,  and  having  thrown 
aside  the  many  guesses  and  fables  which  somehow 
have  woven  themselves  around  the  wonderful  Name, 


12  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.   LUKE. 


he  will  write  down,  in  historical  order  as  far  as  may  be, 
the  story;  so  that  his  friend  Theophilus  may  know 
the  "certainty  of  the  things"  in  which  he  has  been 
"instructed,"  or  orally  catechized,  as  the  word  would 
mean. 

Where,  then,  it  may  be  asked,  is  there  room  for 
inspiration  ?  If  the  genesis  of  the  Gospel  is  so  purely 
human,  where  is  there  room  for  the  touch  of  the 
Divine  ?  Why  should  the  Gospel  of  St.  Luke  be 
canonized,  incorporated  into  Holy  Scripture,  while  the 
writings  of  others  are  thrown  back  into  an  Apocrypha, 
or  still  farther  back  into  oblivion  ?  The  very  questions 
will  suggest  an  answer.  That  touch  of  the  Divine 
which  we  call  inspiration  is  not  always  an  equal 
touch.  Now  it  is  a  pressure  from  above  that  is  over- 
whelming. The  writer  is  carried  out  of  himself, 
borne  up  into  regions  where  Sight  and  Reason  in 
their  loftiest  flights  cannot  come,  as  the  prophet  fore- 
tells events  no  human  mind  could  foresee,  much  less 
describe.  In  the  case  of  St,  Luke  there  was  no  need 
for  this  abnormal  pressure,  or  for  these  prophetic 
ecstasies.  He  was  to  record,  for  the  most  part,  facts 
of  recent  occurrence,  facts  that  had  been  witnessed, 
and  could  now  be  attested,  by  persons  still  living ; 
and  a  fact  is  a  fact,  whether  it  is  inspired  or  no. 
Inspiration  may  record  a  fact,  while  others  are  omitted, 
showing  that  this  fact  has  a  certain  value  above  others; 
but  if  it  is  true,  inspiration  itself  cannot  make  it  more 
true.  Nevertheless,  there  is  the  touch  of  the  Divine 
even  here.  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  new  depar- 
ture ?  for  it  is  a  new  and  a  wide  departure.  Why 
does  not  Thomas  write  a  Gospel  ?  or  Philip,  or  Paul  ? 
Why  should  the  Evangelist-mantle  be  carried  outside 
the  bounds  of  the  sacred  land,  to  be  thrown  around 


THE  GENESIS   OF  THE   GOSPEL. 


a  Gentile,  who  cannot  speak  the  sacred  tongue  except 
with  a  foreign  Shibboleth  ?  Ah,  we  see  here  the 
movings  of  the  Holy  Ghost !  selecting  the  separate 
agents  for  the  separate  tasks,  and  dividing  to  "  every 
man  severally  as  He  will."  And  not  only  does  the 
Holy  Spirit  summon  him  to  the  work,  He  qualifies 
him  for  it,  furnishing  him  with  materials,  and  guiding 
his  mind  as  to  what  shall  be  omitted  and  what  retained. 
It  is  the  same  Spirit,  who  moved  "holy  men  of  old" 
to  speak  and  write  the  things  of  God,  who  now  touches 
the  mind  and  heart  of  the  four  Evangelists,  enabling 
them  to  give  the  four  versions  of  the  one  Story,  in 
different  language,  and  with  sundry  differences  of 
detail,  but  with  no  contradiction  of  thought,  each 
being,  in  a  sense,  the  complement  of  the  rest,  the  four 
quarters  making  one  rounded  and  perfect  whole. 
.  Perhaps  at  first  sight  our  subject  may  not  seem  to 
have  any  reference  to  our  smaller  lives ;  for  who  of 
us  can  be  Evangelists  or  Apostles,  in  the  highest 
meaning  of  the  words  ?  And  yet  it  has,  if  we  look 
into  it,  a  very  practical  bearing  upon  our  lives,  even 
the  commonplace,  every-day  life.  Whence  come  our 
gifts  ?  Who  makes  these  gifts  to  differ  ?  Who  gives 
us"  the  differing  taste  and  nature  ?  for  we  are  not 
consulted  as  to  our  nature  any  more  than  as  to  our 
nativities.  The  fact  is,  our  "human"  is  touched  by 
the  Divine  at  every  point.  What  are  the  chequered 
scer.es  of  our  lives  but  the  black  or  the  white  squares 
to  w  hich  the  Unseen  Hand  moves  us  at  will  ?  Earth's 
problem  is  but  Heaven's  purpose.  And  are  not  we, 
too,  writing  scriptures?  putting  God's  thoughts  into 
words  and  deeds,  so  that  men  may  read  them  and 
know  them?  Verily  we  are;  and  our  writing  is  for 
eternity.     In  the  volume  of  our  book  are  no  omissions 


14  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

or  erasures.  Listen,  then,  to  the  heavenly  call.  Be 
obedient  to  your  heavenly  vision.  Leave  mind  and 
heart  open  to  the  play  of  the  Divine  Spirit.  Keep 
self  out  of  sight.  Delight  in  God's  will,  and  do  it. 
So  will  you  make  your  lowlier  life  another  Testament, 
written  over  with  Gospels  and  Epistles,  and  closing  at 
last  with  an  Apocalypse. 


CHAPTER   \U 

THE  MUTE  PRIEST. 
Luke  i.  5-25,  57-80. 

AFTER  his  personal  prelude,  our  Evangelist  goes 
on  to  give  in  detail  the  pre-Advent  revelations, 
so  connecting  the  thread  of  his  narrative  with  the 
broken-off  thread  of  the  Old  Testament.  His  language, 
however,  suddenly  changes  its  character  and  accent; 
and  its  frequent  Hebraisms  show  plainly  that  he  is  no 
longer  giving  his  own  words,  but  that  he  is  simply 
recording  the  narratives  as  they  were  told  him,  pos- 
sibly by  some  member  of  the  Holy  Family. 

"There  was  in  the  days  of  Herod,  king  of  Judaea." 
Even  the  surface-reader  of  Scripture  will  observe  how 
little  is  made  in  its  pages  of  the  time-element.  There 
is  a  purposed  vagueness  in  its  chronology,  which 
scarcely  accords  with  our  Western  ideas  of  accuracy 
and  precision.  We  observe  times  and  seasons.  We 
strike  off  the  years  with  the  clang  of  bells  or  the 
hush  of  solemn  services.  Each  day  with  us  is  lifted 
up  into  prominence,  having  a  personality  and  history 
all  its  own,  and  as  we  write  its  history,  we  keep  it 
clear  of  all  its  to-morrows  and  its  yesterdays.  And 
so  the  day  grows  naturally  into  a  date,  and  dates  com- 
bine into  chronologies,  where  everything  is  sharp,  exact. 
Not  so,  however,  was  it,  or  indeed  is  it,  in  the  Eastern 


16  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 


world.  Time  there,  if  we  may  speak  temporally,  was 
of  little  moment.  To  that  slow-moving  and  slow- 
thinking  world  one  day  was  a  trifle,  something  atomic  ; 
it  took  a  number  of  them  to  make  an  appreciable 
quantity.  And  so  they  divided  their  time,  in  ordinary 
speech,  not  minutely  as  we  do,  but  into  larger  periods, 
measuring  its  distances  by  the  shadows  of  their  striking 
events.  Why  is  it  that  we  have  four  Gospels,  and 
in  fact  a  whole  New  Testament,  without  a  date  ?  for 
it  cannot  possibly  be  a  chance  omission.  Is  the  time- 
element  so  subdued  and  set  back,  lest  the  "things 
temporal "  should  lead  oft  our  minds  from  the  "  things 
spiritual  and  eternal"?  For  what  is  time,  after  all, 
but  a  negative  quantity?  an  empty  space,  in  itself 
all  silent  and  dead,  until  our  thoughts  and  deeds  strike 
against  it  and  make  it  vocal?  Nay,  even  in  the 
heavenly  life  we  see  the  same  losing  of  the  time- 
element,  for  we  read,  "  There  should  be  time  no 
longer."  Not  that  it  will  then  disappear,  swallowed 
up  in  that  infinite  duration  we  call  eternity.  That 
would  make  heaven  a  confusion ;  for  to  finite  minds 
eternity  itself  must  come  in  measured  beats,  striking, 
like  the  waves  along  the  shore,  in  rhythmic  intervals. 
But  our  time  will  be  no  longer.  It  must  needs  be 
transfigured,  ceasing  to  be  earthly,  that  it  may  become 
heavenly  in  its  measurement  and  in  its  speech.  And 
so  in  the  Bible,  which  is  a  Divine-human  book, 
written  for  the  ages,  God  has  purposely  veiled  the 
times,  at  any  rate  the  "  days  "  of  earthly  reckoning. 
Even  the  day  of  our  Lord's  birth,  and  the  day  of  His 
death,  our  chronologies  cannot  determine :  we  measure, 
we  guess,  but  it  is  randomly,  like  the  blinded  men 
of  Sodom,  who  wearied  themselves  to  find  the  door. 
In   Heaven's   reckoning  deeds   are   more   than   days. 


i.  5-25, 57-S0.]  THE  MUTE  PRIEST.  17 

Time-beats  by  themselves  are  only  broken  silences, 
but  put  a  soul  among  them,  and  you  make  songs, 
anthems,  and  all  kinds  of  music.  "  In  those  days  "  may 
be  a  common  Hebraism,  but  may  it  not  be  something 
more  ?  may  it  not  be  an  idiom  of  celestial  speech, 
the  heavenly  way  of  referring  to  earthly  things?  At 
any  rate  we  know  this,  that  while  Heaven  is  careful 
to  give  us  the  purpose,  the  promise,  and  the  fulfilment, 
the  Divine  Spirit  does  not  care  to  give  us  the  exact 
moment  when  the  promise  became  a  realization. 
And  that  it  is  so  shows  that  it  is  best  it  should  be 
so.     Silence  sometimes  may  be  better  than  speech. 

But  in  saying  all  this  we  do  not  say  that  Heaven 
is  unobservant  of  earthly  times  and  seasons.  They 
are  a  part  of  the  Divine  order,  stamped  on  all  lives, 
on  all  worlds.  Our  days  and  nights  keep  their  alter- 
nate step  ;  our  seasons  observe  their  processional  order, 
singing  in  antiphonal  responses ;  while  our  world, 
geared  in  with  other  worlds,  strikes  off  our  earthly 
years  and  days  with  an  absolute  precision.  So,  now 
the  time  of  the  Advent  has  been  Divinely  chosen 
for  whole  millenniums  unalterably  fixed ;  nor  have  the 
cries  of  Israel's  impatient  hopes  been  allowed  to  hurry 
forward  the  Divine  purpose,  so  making  it  premature. 
But  why  should  the  Advent  be  so  long  delayed  ?  In 
our  off-handed  way  of  thinking  we  might  have  sup- 
posed the  Redeemer  would  have  come  directly  after 
the  Fall ;  and  as  far  as  Heaven  was  concerned,  there 
was  no  reason  why  the  Incarnation  and  the  Redemption 
should  not  be  effected  immediately.  The  Divine  Son 
was  even  then  prepared  to  lay  aside  His  glories,  and 
to  become  incarnate.  He  might  have  been  born  of  the 
Virgin  of  Eden,  as  well  as  of  the  Virgin  of  Galilee  ; 
and  even  then  He  might  have  offered  unto  God  that 

2 


18  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.   LUKE. 

perfect  obedience  by  which  the  "many  are  made 
righteous."  Why,  then,  this  strange  delay,  as  the 
months  lengthen  into  years,  and  the  years  into  cen- 
turies ?  The  Patriarchs  come  and  go,  and  only  see  the 
promise  "afar  off."  Then  come  centuries  of  oppres- 
sion, as  Canaan  is  completely  eclipsed  by  the  dark 
shadow  of  Egypt;  then  the  Exodus,  the  wanderings, 
the  conquest.  The  Judges  administer  a  rough-handed 
justice ;  Kings  play  with  their  little  crowns  ;  Prophets 
rebuke  and  prophesy,  telling  of  the  "  Wonderful "  who 
shall  be;  but  still  the  Messiah  delays  His  coming. 
W7hy  this  strange  postponement  of  the  world's  hopes, 
as  if  prophecy  dealt  in  illusions  only  ?  We  find  the 
answer  in  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the  Galatians  (chap, 
iv.  4).  The  "  fulness  of  the  time  "  was  not  yet  come. 
The  time  was  maturing,  but  was  not  yet  ripe.  Heaven 
was  long  ago  prepared  for  an  Incarnation,  but  Earth 
was  not ;  and  had  the  Advent  occurred  at  an  earlier 
stage  of  the  world's  history,  it  would  have  been  an 
anachronism  the  age  would  have  misunderstood.  There 
must  be  a  leading  up  to  God's  gifts,  or  His  blessings 
cease  to  be  blessings.  The  world  must  be  prepared 
for  the  Christ,  or  virtually  He  is  no  Christ,  no  Saviour 
to  them.  The  Christ  must  come  into  the  world's  mind 
as  a  familiar  thought,  He  must  come  into  the  world's 
heart  as  a  deep-felt  need,  before  He  can  come  as  the 
Word  Incarnate. 

And  when  is  this  "  fulness  of  the  time  "  ?  "  In  the 
days  of  Herod,  king  of  Judaea."  Such  is  the  phrase 
that  now  strikes  the  Divine  hour,  and  leads  in  the 
dawn  of  a  new  dispensation.  And  what  dark  days 
were  those  to  the  Hebrew  people,  when  on  the  throne 
of  their  David  sat  that  Idumean  shadow  of  the  dread 
Caesar  I     Their  land  swarms  with  Gentile  hordes,  and 


»•  5-25, 57-So.]  THE  MUTE  PRIEST.  19 

on  the  soil  devoted  to  Jehovah  rise  stately,  splendid 
temples,  dedicated  to  strange  gods.  It  is  one  irruption 
of  Paganism,  as  if  the  Roman  Pantheon  had  emptied 
itself  upon  the  Holy  Land.  Nay,  it  seemed  as  if  the 
Hebrew  faith  itself  would  become  extinct,  strangled 
by  heathen  fables,  or  at  any  rate  that  she  would 
survive,  only  the  ghost  of  her  other  self,  walking  like 
an  apparition,  with  veiled  face  and  sealed  lips,  amid  the 
scenes  of  her  former  glories.  "  The  days  of  Herod  " 
were  the  Hebrew  midnight,  but  they  give  us  the  Bright 
and  Morning  Star.  And  so  upon  this  dial-plate  of 
Scripture  the  great  Herod,  with  all  his  royalties,  is 
nothing  more  than  the  dark,  empty  shadow  which 
marks  a  Divine  hour,  "  the  fulness  of  the  time." 

Israel's  corporate  life  began  with  four  centuries  of 
silence  and  oppression,  when  Egypt  gave  them  the 
doubled  task,  and  Heaven  grew  strangely  still,  giving 
them  neither  voice  nor  vision.  Is  it  but  one  of  the 
chance  repetitions  of  history  that  Israel's  national  life 
should  end,  too,  with  four  hundred  years  of  silence  ? 
for  such  is  the  coincidence,  if,  indeed,  we  may  not  call 
it  something  more.  It  is,  however,  just  such  a  coin- 
cidence as  the  Hebrew  mind,  quick  to  trace  resemblances 
and  to  discern  signs,  would  grasp  firmly  and  eagerly. 
It  would  revive  their  long-deferred  and  dying  hopes, 
overlaying  the  near  future  with  its  gold.  Possibly  it 
was  this  very  coincidence  that  now  transformed  their 
hope  into  expectation,  and  set  their  hearts  listening 
for  the  advent  of  the  Messiah.  Did  not  Moses  come 
when  the  task  was  doubled  ?  And  was  not  the  four 
hundred  years'  silence  broken  by  the  thunders  of  the 
Exodus,  as  the  I  AM,  once  again  asserting  Himself, 
"  sent  redemption  to  His  people  "  ?  And  so,  counting 
back  their  silent  years  since  Heaven's  last  voice  came 


20  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

to  them  through  their  prophet  Malachi,  they  caught 
in  its  very  silences  a  sound  of  hope,  the  footfall  of 
the  forerunner,  and  the  voice  of  the  coming  Lord. 
But  where,  and  how,  shall  the  long  silence  be  broken  ? 
We  must  go  for  our  answer — and  here,  again,  we  see 
a  correspondence  between  the  new  Exodus  and  the 
old— to  the  tribe  of  Levi,  and  to  the  house  of  Amram 
and  Jochebed. 

Residing  in  one  of  the  priestly  cities  of  the  Hill- 
country-of  Judaea — though  not  in  Hebron,  as  is  commonly 
supposed,  for  it  is  most  unlikely  that  a  name  so  familiar 
and  sacred  in  the  Old  Testament  would  here  be  omitted 
in  the  New — was  "  a  certain  priest  named  Zacharias." 
Himself  a  descendant  of  Aaron,  his  wife,  too,  was  of 
the  same  lineage  ;  and  besides  being  "  of  the  daughters 
of  Aaron,"  she  bore  the  name  of  their  ancestral  mother, 
"  Elisabeth."  Like  Abraham  and  Sarah,  they  were  both 
well  advanced  in  years,  and  childless.  But  if  they  were 
not  allowed  to  have  any  lien  upon  posterity,  throwing 
themselves  forward  into  future  generations,  they  made 
up  the  lack  of  earthly  relationships  by  cultivating  the 
heavenly.  Forbidden,  as  they  thought,  to  look  forward 
down  the  lines  of  earthly  hopes,  they  could  and  did  look 
heavenward ;  for  we  read  that  they  wTere  both  "  right- 
eous"— a  word  implying  a  Mosaic  perfection — "walking 
ill  all  the  commandments  and  ordinances  of  the  Lord 
blameless."  We  may  not  be  able,  perhaps,  to  give 
the  precise  distinction  between  "  commandments  "  and 
"  ordinances,"  for  they  were  sometimes  used  inter- 
changeably; but  if,  as  the  general  use  of  the  words 
allows  us,  we  refer  the  "  commandments  "  to  the  moral, 
and  the  "ordinances"  to  the  ceremonial  law,  we  see 
how  wide  is  the  ground  they  cover,  embracing,  as  they 
do,  the  (then)  "  whole  duty  of  man."     Rarely,  if  ever, 


*.  5-25, 57-8o.]  THE  MUTE  PRIEST.  21 

do  the  Scriptures  speak  in  such  eulogistic  terms  ;  and 
that  they  should  here  be  applied  to  Zacharias  and 
Elisabeth  shows  that  they  were  advanced  in  saint- 
liness,  as  well  as  in  years.  Possibly  St.  Luke  had 
another  object  in  view  in  giving  us  the  portraits  of 
these  two  pre-Advent  Christians,  completing  in  the 
next  chapter  the  quarternion,  by  his  mention  of  Simeon 
and  Anna.  It  is  somewhat  strange,  to  say  the  least, 
that  the  Gentile  Evangelist  should  be  the  one  to  give 
us  this  remarkable  group — the  four  aged  Templars,  who, 
11  when  "  it  was  yet  dark,  rose  to  chant  their  matins  and 
to  anticipate  the  dawn.  Whether  the  Evangelist  in- 
tended it  or  not,  his  narrative  salutes  the  Old,  whi!e 
it  heralds  the  New  dispensation,  paying  to  that  Old 
a  high  though  unconscious  tribute.  It  shows  us  that 
Hebraism  was  not  }ret  dead  ;  for  if  on  its  central  stem, 
within  the  limited  area  of  its  Temple  courts,  such  a 
cluster  of  beautiful  lives  could  be  found,  who  will  tell 
the  harvest  of  its  outlying  branches  ?  Judaism  was  not 
altogether  a  piece  of  mechanism,  elaborate  and  exact, 
with  a  soulless,  metallic  click  of  rites  and  ceremonies. 
It  was  an  organism,  living  and  sentient.  It  had  nerves 
and  blood.  Possessed  of  a  heart  itself,  it  touched  the 
hearts  of  its  children.  It  gave  them  aspirations  and 
inspirations  without  number;  and  even  its  shadows 
were  the  interpreters,  as  they  were  the  creations,  of  the 
heavenly  light.  And  if  now  it  is  doomed  to  pass  away, 
outdated  and  superseded,  it  is  not  because  it  is  bad, 
worthless;  for  it  was  a  Divine  conception,  the  "good" 
thing,  preparing  for  and  proclaiming  God's  "better 
thing."  Judaism  was  the  "  glorious  angel,  keeping 
the  gates  of  light ; "  and  now,  behold,  she  swings  back 
the  gates,  welcomes  the  Morning,  and  herself  then 
disappears. 


22  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

It  is  the  autumn  service  for  the  course  of  Abia — 
which  is  the  eighth  of  the  twenty-four  courses  into 
which  the  priesthood  was  divided — and  Zacharias  pro- 
ceeds to  Jerusalem,  to  perform  whatever  part  of  the 
service  the  lot  may  assign  to  him.  It  is  probably  the 
evening  of  the  Sabbath — the  presence  of  the  multitude 
would  almost  imply  that — and  this  evening  the  lot  gives 
to  Zacharias  the  coveted  distinction — which  could  only 
come  once  in  a  lifetime — of  burning  incense  in  the  Holy 
Place.  At  a  given  signal,  between  the  slaying  and  the 
offering  of  the  lamb,  Zacharias,  barefooted  and  robed  in 
white,  passes  up  the  steps,  accompanied  by  two  assist- 
ants, one  bearing  a  golden  censer  containing  half  a 
pound  of  the  sweet-smelling  incense,  the  other  bearing 
a  golden  vessel  of  burning  coals  taken  from  the  altar. 
Slowly  and  reverently  they  pass  within  the  Holy  Place, 
which  none  but  Levites  are  permitted  to  enter ;  and 
having  arranged  the  incense,  and  spread  the  live  coals 
upon  the  altar,  the  assistants  retire,  leaving  Zacharias 
alone — alone  in  the  dim  light  of  the  seven-branched 
candlestick,  alone  beside  that  veil  he  may  not  uplift, 
and  which  hides  from  his  sight  the  Holy  of  Holies, 
where  God  dwells  "  in  the  thick  darkness."  Such  is 
the  place,  and  such  the  supreme  moment,  when  Heaven 
breaks  the  silence  of  four  hundred  years. 

It  is  no  concern  of  ours  to  explain  the  phenomenon  that 
followed,  or  to  tone  down  its  supernatural  elements. 
Given  an  Incarnation,  and  then  the  supernatural  be- 
comes not  only  probable,  but  necessary.  Indeed,  we 
could  not  well  conceive  of  any  new  revelation  without 
it ;  and  instead  of  its  being  a  weakness,  a  blemish  on 
the  page  of  Scripture,  it  is  rather  a  proof  of  its  heaven- 
liness,  a  hall-mark  that  stamps  its  Divinity.  Nor  is 
there  any  need,  believing  as  we  do  in  the  existence  of 


>•  5-25. 57-So.]  THE  MUTE  PRIEST.  23 

intelligences  other  and  higher  than  ourselves,  that  we 
apologize  for  the  appearance  of  angels,  here  and  else- 
where, in  the  story;  such  deference  to  Sadducean  doubts 
is  not  required. 

Suddenly,  as  Zacharias  stands  with  uplifted  hands, 
joining  in  the  prayers  offered  by  the  silent  " multitude'' 
without,  an  angel  appears.  Pie  stands  "on  the  right 
side  of  the  altar  of  incense,"  half- veiled  by  the  fragrant 
smoke,  which  curling  upwards,  filled  the  place.  No 
wonder  that  the  lone  priest  is  filled  with  "  fear,"  and 
that  he  is  "troubled" — a  word  implying  an  outward 
tremor,  as  if  the  very  body  shook  with  the  unwonted 
agitation  of  the  soul.  The  angel  does  not  at  first 
announce  his  name,  but  seeks  rather  to  calm  the  heart 
of  the  priest,  stilling  its  tumult  with  a  "  Fear  not,"  as 
Jesus  stilled  the  waters  with  His  "  Peace."  Then  he 
makes  known  his  message,  speaking  in  language  most 
homely  and  most  human :  "  Thy  prayer  is  heard." 
Perhaps  a  more  exact  rendering  would  be,  "  Thy 
request  was  granted,"  for  the  substantive  implies  a 
specific  prayer,  while  the  verb  indicates  a  "hearing" 
that  becomes  an  "assenting."  What  the  prayer  was 
we  may  gather  from  the  angel's  words ;  for  the  whole 
message,  both  in  its  promise  and  its  prophecy,  is  but 
an  amplification  of  its  first  clause.  To  the  Jew,  child- 
lessness was  the  worst  of  all  bereavements.  It  implied, 
at  least  they  thought  so,  the  Divine  displeasure ;  while 
it  effectually  cut  them  off  from  any  personal  share  in 
those  cherished  Messianic  hopes.  To  the  Hebrew 
heart  the  message,  "  Unto  you  a  son  is  born,"  was 
the  music  of  a  lower  Gospel.  It  marked  an  epoch  in 
their  life-history ;  it  brought  the  fulfilment  of  their 
desires,  and  a  wealth  of  added  dignities.  And  Zacharias 
had  prayed,  earnestly  and  long,  that  a  son  might  be 


24  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

born  to  them ;  but  the  bright  hope,  with  the  years,  had 
grown  distant  and  dim,  until  at  last  it  had  dropped 
down  beyond  the  horizon  of  their  thoughts,  and  become 
an  impossibility.  But  those  prayers  were  heard,  yea, 
and  granted,  too,  in  the  Divine  purpose;  and  if  the 
answer  has  been  delayed,  it  was  that  it  might  come 
freighted  with  a  larger  blessing. 

But  in  saying  that  this  was  the  specific  prayer  of 
Zacharias  we  do  not  wish  to  disparage  his  motives, 
confining  his  thoughts  and  aspirations  within  a  circle 
so  narrow  and  selfish.  This  lesser  hope  of  offspring, 
like  a  satellite,  revolved  around  the  larger  hope  of  a 
Messiah,  and  indeed  grew  out  of  it.  It  drew  all  its 
brightness  and  all  its  beauty  from  that  larger  hope,  the 
hope  that  lighted  up  the  dark  Hebrew  sky  with  the 
auroras  of  a  new  and  fadeless  dawn.  When  mariners 
"  take  the  sun,"  as  they  call  it,  reading  from  its  disc 
their  longitudes,  they  bring  it  down  to  their  horizon- 
level.  They  get  the  higher  in  the  lower  vision,  and 
the  real  direction  of  their  looks  is  not  the  apparent 
direction.  And  if  Zacharias'  thoughts  and  prayers 
seem  to  have  an  earthward  drift,  his  soul  looks  higher 
than  his  speech ;  and  if  he  looks  along  the  horizon- 
level  of  earthly  hopes,  it  is  that  he  may  read  the 
heavenly  promise.  It  is  not  a  son  that  he  is  looking 
for,  but  the  Son,  the  "Seed"  in  whom  "all  the  families 
of  the  earth  shall  be  blessed."  And  so,  when  the 
silent  tongue  regains  its  powers  of  speech,  it  gives  its 
first  and  highest  doxologies  for  that  other  Child,  who 
is  Himself  the  promised  "redemption"  and  a  "horn 
of  salvation ; "  his  own  child  he  sets  back,  far  back  in 
the  shadow  (or  rather  the  light)  of  Him  whom  he  calls 
the  "  Lord."  It  is  the  near  realization  of  both  these 
hopes  that  the  angel  now  announces. 


-.5-25, 57-8o.]  THE  MUTE  PRIEST  25 

A  son  shall  be  born  to  them,  even  in  their  advanced 
years,  and  they  shall  call  his  name  "  John,"  which 
means  "The  Lord  is  gracious."  "Many  will  rejoice 
with  them  at  his  birth,"  for  that  birth  will  be  the 
awakening  of  new  hopes,  the  first  hour  of  a  new  day. 
"Great  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord,"  he  must  be  a  Nazarite, 
abstaining  wholly  from  "  wine  and  strong  drink  " — the 
two  Greek  words  including  all  intoxicants,  however 
made.  "  Filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost  from  his  mother's 
womb  " — that  original  bias  or  propensity  to  evil,  if  not 
obliterated,  yet  more  than  neutralized — he  shall  be  the 
Elijah  (in  spirit  and  in  power)  of  Malachi's  prophecy, 
turning  many  of  Israel's  children  "  to  the  Lord  their 
God."  "  Going  before^  Him  " — and  the  antecedent  of 
"  Him"  must  be  "the  Lord  their  God"  of  the  preceding 
verse,  so  early  is  the  purple  of  Divinity  thrown  around 
the  Christ — he  "  shall  turn  the  hearts  of  fathers  to  their 
children/'  restoring  peace  and  order  to  domestic  life ; 
and  the  "disobedient"  he  shall  incline  "to  walk  in  the 
wisdom  of  the  just  "  (R.  V.),  bringing  back  the  feet  that 
have  erred  and  slipped  to  "the  paths  of  uprightness," 
which  are  the  "  ways  of  wisdom."  In  short,  he  shall 
be  the  herald,  making  ready  a  people  prepared  for  the 
Lord,  running  before  the  Royal  chariot,  proclaiming  the 
coming  One,  and  preparing  His  way,  then  leaving  his 
own  little  footprints  to  disappear,  thrown  up  in  the 
chariot-dust  of  Him  who  was  greater  and  mightier 
than  he. 

We  can  easily  understand,  even  if  we  may  not 
apologize  for,  the  incredulity  of  Zacharias.  There  are 
crises  in  our  life  when,  under  profound  emotion, 
Reason  herself  seems  bewildered,  and  Faith  loses  her 
steadiness  of  vision.  The  storm  of  feeling  throws  the 
reflective  powers  into  confusion,  and  thought  becomes 


26  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

blurred  and  indistinct,  and  speech  incoherent  and  wild. 
And  such  a  crisis  was  it  now,  but  intensified  to  the 
mind  of  Zacharias  by  all  these  additions  of  the  super- 
natural. The  vision,  with  its  accessories  of  place  and 
time,  the  message,  so  startling,  even  though  so  welcome, 
must  necessarily  produce  a  strange  perturbation  of  soul ; 
and  what  surprise  need  there  be  that  when  the  priest 
does  speak  it  is  in  the  lisping  accents  of  unbelief? 
Could  it  well  have  been  otherwise  ?  Peter  "  wist  not 
that  it  was  true  which  was  done  by  the  angel,  but  thought 
he  saw  a  vision ; "  and  though  Zacharias  has  none  of 
these  doubts  of  unreality — it  is  to  him  no  dream  of  the 
moment's  ecstasy — still  he  is  not  yet  aware  of  the  rank 
and  dignity  of  his  angel-visitant,  while  he  is  perplexed 
at  the  message,  which  so  directly  contravenes  both 
reason  and  experience.  He  does  not  doubt  the  Divine 
power,  let  it  be  observed,  but  he  does  seek  for  a  sign 
that  the  angel  speaks  with  Divine  authority.  "  Where- 
by shall  I  know  this  ?  "  he  asks,  reminding  us  by  his 
question  of  Jacob's  "  Tell  me  thy  name."  The  angel 
replies,  in  substance,  "  You  ask  wThereby  you  may  know 
this;  that  is,  you  wish  to  know  by  whose  authority 
I  declare  this  message  to  you.  Well,  I  am  Gabriel, 
that  stand  in  the  presence  of  God ;  and  I  was  sent  to 
speak  unto  you,  and  to  bring  }'ou  these  good  tidings. 
And  since  you  ask  for  a  sign,  an  endorsement  of  my 
message,  you  shall  have  one.  I  put  the  seal  of  silence 
upon  your  lips,  and  you  shall  not  be  able  to  speak 
until  the  day  when  these  things  shall  come  to  pass, 
because  you  believed  not  my  words."  Then  the  vision 
ends ;  Gabriel  returns  to  the  songs  and  anthems  of  the 
skies,  leaving  Zacharias  to  carry,  in  awful  stillness  of 
soul,  this  new  "  secret  of  the  Lord." 

This    infliction   of   dumbness    upon    Zacharias   has 


i.  5-25, 57-80.]  THE  MUTE  PRIEST.  27 

generally  been  regarded  as  a  rebuke  and  punishment 
for  bis  unbelief;  but  if  we  refer  to  the  parallel  cases  of 
Abraham  and  of  Gideon,  such  is  not  Heaven's  wonted 
answer  to  the  request  for  a  sign.  We  must  understand 
it  rather  as  the  proof  Zacharias  sought,  something  at 
once  supernatural  and  significant,  that  should  help  his 
stumbling  faith.  Such  a  sign,  and  a  most  effective  one, 
it  was.  Unlike  Gideon's  dew,  that  would  soon  eva- 
porate, leaving  nothing  but  a  memory,  this  was  ever 
present,  ever  felt,  at  least  until  faith  was  exchanged 
for  sight.  Nor  was  it  dumbness  simply,  for  the  word 
(ver.  22)  rendered  "speechless"  implies  inability  to 
hear  as  well  as  inability  to  speak;  and  this,  coupled 
with  the  fact  mentioned  in  ver.  62,  that  "they  made 
signs  to  him  " — which  they  would  scarcely  have  done 
could  he  have  heard  their  voices — compels  us  to  sup- 
pose that  Zacharias  had  suddenly  become  deaf  as  well 
as  dumb.  Heaven  put  the  seal  of  silence  upon  his  lips 
and  ears,  that  so  its  own  voice  might  be  more  clear  and 
loud ;  and  so  the  profound  silences  of  Zacharias'  soul 
were  but  the  blank  spaces  on  which  Heaven's  sweet 
music  was  written. 

How  long  the  interview  with  the  angel  lasted  we 
cannot  tell.  It  must,  however,  have  been  brief;  for  at 
a  given  signal,  the  stroke  of  the  Magrephah,  the  atten- 
dant priest  would  re-enter  the  Holy  Place,  to  light  the 
two  lamps  that  had  been  left  unlighted.  And  here  we 
must  look  for  the  "  tarrying "  that  so  perplexed  the 
multitude,  who  were  waiting  outside,  in  silence,  for  the 
benediction  of  the  incensing  priest.  Re-entering  the 
Holy  Place,  the  attendant  finds  Zacharias  smitten  as  by 
a  sudden  paralysis — speechless,  deaf,  and  overcome  by 
emotion.  What  wonder  that  the  strange  excitement 
makes  them  oblivious  of  time,  and,  for  the  moment. 


28  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

all-forgetful  of  their  Temple  duties !  The  priests  are 
in  their  places,  grouped  together  on  the  steps  leading 
up  to  the  Holy  Place ;  the  sacrificing  priest  has  ascended 
the  great  brazen  altar,  ready  to  cast  the  pieces  of  the 
slain  lamb  upon  the  sacred  fire;  the  Levites  stand 
ready  with  their  trumpets  and  their  psalms — all  waiting 
for  the  priests  who  linger  so  long  in  the  Holy  Place. 
At  length  they  appear,  taking  up  their  position  on  the 
top  of  the  steps,  above  the  rows  of  priests,  and  above 
the  silent  multitude.  But  Zacharias  cannot  pronounce 
the  usual  benediction  to-day.  The  "Jehovah  bless 
thee  and  keep  thee"  is  unsaid;  the  priest  can  only 
" beckon"  to  them,  perhaps  laying  his  finger  on  the 
silent  lips,  and  then  pointing  to  the  silent  heavens — to 
them  indeed  silent,  but  to  himself  all  vocal  now. 

And  so  the  mute  priest,  after  the  days  of  his  minis- 
tration are  completed,  returns  to  his  home  in  the  hill- 
country,  to  wait  the  fulfilment  of  the  promises,  and  out 
of  his  deep  silences  to  weave  a  song  that  should  be 
immortal;  for  the  Benedictus,  whose  music  girdles  the 
world  to-day,  before  it  struck  upon  the  world's  ear  and 
heart,  had,  through  those  quiet  months,  filled  the  hushed 
temple  of  his  soul,  lifting  up  the  priest  and  the  prophet 
among  the  poets,  and  passing  down  the  name  of 
Zacharias  as  one  of  the  first  sweet  singers  of  the  new 
Israel. 

And  so  the  Old  meets,  and  merges  into  the  New 
and  at  the  marriage  it  is  the  speaking  hands  of  the 
mute  priest  that  join  together  the  two  Dispensations,  as 
each  gives  itself  to  the  other,  never  more  to  be  put 
asunder,  but  to  be  "no  longer  twain,  but  one,"  one 
Purpose,  one  Plan,  one  Divine  Thought,  one  Divine 
Word. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  GOSPEL  PSALMS. 

UNLIKE  modern  church  builders,  St.  Luke  sets  his 
chancel  by  the  porch.  No  sooner  have  we 
passed  through  the  vestibule  of  his  Gospel  than  we 
find  ourselves  within  a  circle  of  harmonies.  On  the 
one  side  are  Zacharias  and  Simeon,  the  one  chanting 
his  Bcncdichts,  and  the  other  his  Nunc  Dimittis. 
Facing  them,  as  if  in  antiphon,  are  Elisabeth  and 
Mary,  the  one  singing  her  Beatitude,  and  the  other  her 
Magnificat ;  while  overhead,  in  the  frescoed  and  star- 
lighted  sky,  are  vast  multitudes  of  the  heavenly  host, 
enriching  the  Advent  music  with  their  Glorias.  What 
means  this  grand  irruption  of  song  ?  and  why  is 
St.  Luke,  the  Gentile  Evangelist,  the  only  one  who  re- 
peats to  us  these  Hebrew  psalms  ?  At  first  it  would 
seem  as  if  their  natural  place  would  be  as  a  prelude 
to  St.  Matthew's  Gospel,  which  is  the  Gospel  of  the  He- 
brews. But  strangely  enough,  St.  Matthew  passes  them 
by  in  silence,  just  as  he  omits  the  two  angelic  visions. 
St.  Matthew  is  evidently  intent  on  one  thing.  Beginning 
a  New  Testament,  as  he  is,  he  seems  especially  anxious 
that  there  shall  be  no  rent  or  even  seam  between  the 
Old  and  the  New ;  and  so,  in  his  first  pages,  after  giving 
us  the  genealogy,  running  the  line  of  descent  up  to 
Abraham,  he  laces  up  the  threads  of  his  narrative  with 


30  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

the  broken-off  threads  of  the  old  prophecies,  so  that  the 
written  Word  may  be  a  vestment  of  the  Incarnate 
Word,  which  shall  be  "without  seam,  woven  from  the 
top  throughout."  And  so  really  the  Advent  hymns 
would  not  have  suited  St.  Matthew's  purpose.  Their 
ring  would  not  have  been  in  accord  with  the  tone  of 
his  story ;  and  had  we  found  them  in  his  first  chapters 
we  should  instinctively  have  felt  that  they  were  out 
of  place,  as  if  we  saw  a  rose  blossoming  on  a  wide- 
spread oak. 

St.  Luke,  however,  is  portraying  the  Son  of  Man, 
Coming  to  redeem  humanity,  he  shows  how  He  was 
first  born  into  that  humanit}',  making  His  advent  in  a 
purely  human  fashion.  And  so  the  two  conceptions 
form  a  fit  beginning  for  his  Gospel;  while  over  the 
Divine  Birth  and  Childhood  he  lingers  reverently  and 
long,  paying  it,  however,  only  the  homage  Heaven  had 
paid  it  before.  Then,  too,  was  there  not  a  touch  of 
poetry  about  our  Evangelist  ?  Tradition  has  been 
almost  unanimous  in  saying  that  he  was  a  painter ;  and 
certainly  in  the  grouping  of  his  figures,  and  his  careful 
play  upon  the  lights  and  shadows,  we  can  discover 
traces  of  his  artistic  skill,  in  word-painting  at  any  rate. 
His  was  evidently  a  soul  attuned  to  harmonies,  quick 
to  discern  any  accordant  or  discordant  strains.  Nor 
must  we  forget  that  St.  Luke's  mind  is  open  to  certain 
occult  influences,  whose  presence  we  may  indeed  detect, 
but  whose  power  we  are  not  able  to  gauge.  As  we 
have  already  seen,  it  was  the  manifold  narratives  of 
anonymous  writers  that  first  moved  him  to  take  up  the 
pen  of  the  historian  ;  and  to  those  narratives  we  doubt- 
less owe  something  of  the  peculiar  cast  and  colouring  of 
St.  Luke's  story.  It  is  with  the  Nativity  that  tradition 
would  be  most  likely  to  take  liberties.     The  facts  of 


THE  GOSPEL  PSALMS.  31 

the  Advent,  strange  enough  in  themselves,  would  at 
the  hands  of  rumour  undergo  a  process  of  developing, 
like  the  magnified  and  somewhat  grotesque  shadows  of 
himself  the  traveller  casts  on  Alpine  mists.  It  was 
doubtless  owing  to  these  enlargements  and  distortions 
of  tradition  that  St.  Luke  was  led  to  speak  of  the 
Advent  so  full}'-,  going  into  the  minutiae  of  detail,  and 
inserting,  as  is  probable,  from  the  Hebrew  tone  of 
these  first  two  chapters,  the  account  as  given  orally, 
or  written,  by  some  members  of  the  Holy  Family. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  to  some  inquiring  and 
honest  minds  these  Advent  psalms  have  been  a  diffi- 
culty, an  enigma,  if  not  a  stumbling-block.  As  the 
bells  that  summon  to  worship  half-deafen  the  ear  of 
the  worshipper  on  a  too  near  approach,  or  they  become 
merely  a  confused  and  unmeaning  noise  if  he  climbs 
up  into  the  belfry  and  watches  the  swing  of  their 
brazen  lips,  so  this  burst  of  music  in  our  third 
Gospel  has  been  too  loud  for  certain  sensitive  ears. 
It  has  shaken  somewhat  the  foundations  of  their  faith. 
They  think  it  gives  an  unreality,  a  certain  mythical 
flavour,  to  the  story,  that  these  four  pious  people,  who 
have  always  led  a  quiet,  prosaic  kind  of  life,  should 
now  suddenly  break  out  into  impromptu  songs,  and 
when  these  are  ended  lapse  again  into  complete  silence, 
like  the  century  plant,  which  throws  out  a  solitary 
blossom  in  the  course  of  a  hundred  years.  And  so 
they  come  to  regard  these  Hebrew  psalms  as  an  inter- 
polation, an  afterthought,  thrown  into  the  story  for 
effect.  But  let  us  not  forget  that  we  are  dealing  now 
with  Eastern  mind,  which  is  naturally  vivacious, 
imaginative,  and  highly  poetical.  Even  our  colder 
tongue,  in  this  glacial  period  of  nineteenth-century 
civilization,  is  full  of  poetry.     The  language  of  common 


3*  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

every-day  life — to  those  who  have  ears  to  hear — is  full 
of  tropes,  metaphors,  and  parables.  Take  up  the 
commonest  words  of  daily  speech,  and  put  them  to 
your  ear,  and  they  will  sing  like  shells  from  the  sea. 
There  are  whole  poems  in  them — epics,  idylls,  of  every 
sort ;  and  let  our  colder  speech  get  among  the  sweet 
influences  of  religion,  and  like  the  iceberg  adrift  in  the 
Gulf  Stream,  it  loses  its  rigidity  and  frigidity  at  once, 
melting  in  liquid,  rhythmic  measures,  throwing  itself 
away  in  hymns  and  jubilates.  The  fact  is,  the  world  is 
full  of  music.  As  the  Sage  of  Chelsea  said,  "  See  deep 
enough,  and  you  see  musically,  the  heart  of  Nature 
being  everywhere  music  if  you  can  only  reach  it." 
And  it  is  so.  You  can  touch  nothing  but  there  are 
harmonies  slumbering  within  it,  or  itself  is  a  stray  note 
of  some  grander  song.  Dead  wood  from  the  forest, 
dead  ere  from  the  mine,  dead  tusks  of  the  beast — these 
are  the  "  base  things  "  that  strike  our  music ;  and  only 
put  a  mind  within  them,  and  a  living  soul  with  a  living 
touch  before  them,  and  you  have  songs  and  anthems 
without  number. 

But  to  Eastern  minds  poetry  was  a  sort  of  native 
language.  Its  inspiration  was  in  the  air.  Their  ordi- 
nary speech  was  ornate  and  efflorescent,  throwing 
itself  out  in  simile  and  hyperbole.  It  only  needed 
some  small  excitement,  and  they  fell  naturally  into  the 
couplet  form  of  utterance.  Even  to-day  the  children 
swing  under  the  mulberry-trees  to  songs  and  choruses  ; 
hucksters  extol  their  wares  in  measured  verse ;  and  the 
Eethany  fruit-girl  sings  in  the  market,  "  O  lady,  take 
of  our  fruit,  without  money  and  without  price  :  it  is 
yours ;  take  all  that  you  will "  1  And  so  it  need  not 
surprise  us,  much  less  trouble  us,  that  Simeon  and 
Elisabeth,  Zacharias  and  Mary,  should  each  speak  in 


THE  GOSPEL  PSALMS.  33 

measured  cadences.  Their  speech  blossomed  with 
flowers  of  rhetoric,  just  as  naturally  as  their  hills  were 
ablaze  with  daisies  and  anemones.  Besides,  they  were 
now  under  the  direct  inspiration  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
We  read,  "  Elisabeth  was  rilled  with  the  Holy  Ghost ; " 
and  again,  Zacharias  was  "  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost ; " 
Simeon  "came  in  the  Spirit  into  the  Temple;"  while 
Mary  now  seemed  to  live  in  one  conscious,  constant 
inspiration.  It  is  said  that  a  a  poet  is  born,  not  made ; " 
and  if  he  be  not  thus  "  free-born "  no  "  great  sum," 
either  of  gold  or  toil,  will  ever  pass  him  up  within  the 
favoured  circle.  And  the  same  is  true  of  the  poet's 
creations.  Sacred  hymns  are  not  the  product  of  the 
unaided  intellect.  They  do  not  come  at  the  bidding  of 
any  human  will.  They  are  inspirations.  There  is  the 
overshadowing  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  their  conception. 
The  human  mind,  heart,  and  lips  are  but  the  instru- 
ment, a  kind  of  iEolian  lyre,  played  upon  by  the  Higher 
Breath,  which  comes  and  goes — how,  the  singer  himself 
can  never  tell ;  for 

"In  the  song 
The  singer  has  been  lost." 

It  was  when  "filled  with  the  Spirit"  that  Bezaleel  put 
into  his  gold  and  silver  the  thoughts  of  God  ;  it  was  when 
the  Spirit  of  God  came  upon  him  that  Balaam  took  up 
his  parable,  putting  into  stately  numbers  Israel's  for- 
ward march  and  endless  victories.  And  so  the  sacred 
psalm  is  the  highest  type  of  inspiration ;  it  is  a  voice 
from  no  earthly  Parnassus,  but  from  the  Mount  of  God 
itself — the  nearest  approach  to  the  celestial  harmo- 
nies, the  harmonies  of  that  city  whose  very  walls  are 
poetry,  and  whose  gates  are  praise. 

And   so,  after  all,  it  was  but  fitting  and  perfectly 
natural  that  the  Gospel  that  Heaven  had  been  so  long  time 

3 


34  THE   GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

preparing  should  break  upon  the  world  amid  the  har- 
monies of  music.  Instead  of  apologizing  for  its  presence, 
as  if  it  were  but  an  interlude  improvised  for  the  occa- 
sion, we  should  have  noted  and  mourned  its  absence, 
as  when  one  mourns  for  "  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is 
still."  When  the  ark  of  God  was  brought  up  from 
Baale  Judah  it  was  encircled  with  one  wide  wreath  of 
music,  a  travelling  orchestra  of  harps  and  psalteries, 
castanets  and  cymbals  ;  and  as  now  that  Ark  of  all  the 
promises  is  borne  across  from  the  Old  to  the  New  Dis- 
pensation, as  the  promise  becomes  a  fulfilment,  and 
the  hope  a  realization,  shall  there  not  be  the  voice  of 
song  and  gladness  ?  Our  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things 
expects  it ;  Heaven's  law  of  the  harmonies  demands 
it ;  and  had  there  not  been  this  burst  of  praise  and 
song,  we  should  have  listened  for  the  very  stones  to 
cry  out,  rebuking  the  strange  silence.  But  the  voice 
was  not  silent.  The  singers  were  there,  in  their  places ; 
and  they  sang,  not  because  they  would,  but  because 
they  must.  A  heavenly  pressure,  a  sweet  constraint, 
was  upon  them.  If  Wealth  lays  down  her  tribute  of 
gold,  with  frankincense  and  myrrh,  Poetry  weaves  for 
the  Holy  Child  her  beautiful  songs,  and  crowns  Him 
with  her  fadeless  amaranth  ;  and  so  around  the  earthly 
cradle  of  the  Lord,  as  around  His  heavenly  throne, 
we  have  angelic  songs,  and  "  the  voices  of  harpers, 
harping  with  their  harps." 

Turning  now  to  the  four  Gospel-psalmists — not, 
however,  to  analyze,  but  to  listen  to  their  song — we 
meet  first  with  Elisabeth.  This  aged  daughter  of 
Aaron,  and  wife  of  Zacharias,  as  we  have  seen,  resided 
somewhere  in  the  hill-country  of  Judaea,  in  their  quiet, 
childless  home.  Righteous,  blameless,  and  devout, 
religion    to   her  was    no   mere  form;   it  was  her  life. 


THE   GOSPEL  PSALMS. 


The  Temple  services,  with  which  she  was  closely 
associated,  were  to  her  no  cold  clatter  of  dead  rites , 
they  were  realities,  full  of  life  and  full  of  music,  as 
her  heart  had  caught  their  deeper  meaning.  But  the 
Temple,  while  it  attracted  her  thoughts  and  hopes,  did 
not  enclose  them ;  its  songs  and  services  were  to  her 
but  so  many  needles,  swinging  round  on  their  marble 
pivot,  and  pointing  beyond  to  the  Living  God,  the  Gcd 
who  dwelt  not  in  temples  made  with  hands,  but  who, 
then  as  now,  inhabits  the  purified  temple  of  the  heart. 
Long  past  the  time  when  motherly  hopes  were  possible, 
the  fretting  had  subsided,  and  her  spirit  had  become, 
first  acquiescent,  then  quiescent.  But  these  hopes  had 
been  miraculously  rekindled,  as  she  slowly  read  the 
vision  of  the  Temple  from  the  writing-table  of  her 
dumb  husband.  The  shadow  of  her  dial  had  gone 
backward ;  and  instead  of  its  being  evening,  with 
gathering  shadows  and  ever-lessening  light,  she  found 
herself  back  in  the  glow  of  the  morning,  her  whole  life 
lifted  to  a  higher  level.  She  was  to  be  the  mother,  if 
not  of  the  Christ,  yet  of  His  forerunner.  And  so  the 
Christ  was  near  at  hand,  this  was  certain,  and  she  had 
the  secret  prophecy  and  promise  of  His  advent.  And 
Elisabeth  finds  herself  exalted — borne  up,  as  it  were, 
into  Paradise,  among  visions  and  such  swells  of 
hosannas  that  she  cannot  utter  them;  they  are  too 
sweet  and  too  deep  for  her  shallow  words.  Was  it  not 
this,  the  storm  of  inward  commotion,  that  drove  her  to 
hide  herself  for  the  five  months  ?  Heaven  has  come  so 
near  to  her,  such  thoughts  and  visions  fill  her  mind, 
that  she  cannot  bear  the  intrusions  and  jars  of  earthly 
speech  ;  and  Elisabeth  passes  into  a  voluntary  seclusion 
and  silence,  keeping  strange  company  with  the  dumb  and 
deaf  Zacharias. 


36  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

At  length  the  silence  is  broken  by  the  unexpected 
appearance  of  her  Nazareth  relative.  Mary,  fresh  from 
her  hasty  journey,  "  entered  into  the  house  of  Zacharias 
and  saluted  Elisabeth."  It  is  a  singular  expression,  and 
evidently  denotes  that  the  visit  of  the  Virgin  was  alto- 
gether unlooked  for.  There  is  no  going  out  to  meet 
the  expected  guest,  as  was  common  in  Eastern  hospi- 
talities ;  there  was  even  no  welcome  by  the  gate ;  but 
like  an  apparition,  Mary  passes  within,  and  salutes  the 
surprised  Elisabeth,  who  returns  the  salutation,  not, 
however,  in  any  of  the  prescribed  forms,  but  in  a 
benediction  of  measured  verse  : — 

"Blessed  art  thou  among  women, 
And  blessed  is  the  fruit  of  thy  womb ! 
And  whence  is  this  to  me, 
That  the  mother  of  my  Lord  should  come  unto  me  ? 
For,  behold,  when  the  voice  of  thy  salutation  came  into  mine  ears 
The  babe  leaped  in  my  womb  for  joy. 
And  blessed  is  she  that  believed, 
For  there  shall  be  a  fulfilment  of  the  things  which  have  been  spoken 
to  her  from  the  Lord." 

The  whole  canticle — and  it  is  Hebrew  poetry,  as  its 
parallelisms  and  strophes  plainly  show — is  one  apos- 
trophe to  the  Virgin.  Striking  the  key-note  in  its 
" Blessed  art  thou,"  the  "thou"  moves  on,  distinct 
and  clear,  amid  all  variations,  to  the  end,  reaching  its 
climax  in  its  central  phrase,  "  The  mother  of  my  Lord." 
As  one  hails  the  morning  star,  not  so  much  for  its  own 
light  as  for  its  promise  of  the  greater  light,  the  day- 
spring  that  is  behind  it,  so  Elisabeth  salutes  the  morning 
star  of  the  new  dawn,  at  the  same  time  paying  homage 
to  the  Sun,  whose  near  approach  the  star  heralds.  And 
why  is  Mary  so  blessed  among  women  ?  Why  should 
Elisabeth,  forgetting  the  dignity  of  years,  bow  so  defer- 
entially  before   her    youthful   relative,    crowning    her 


THE   GOSPEL  PSALMS.  37 


with  a  song?     Who   has   informed   her  of  the   later 
revelation  at  Nazareth?     It  is  not  necessary  to  sup- 
pose that  Elisabeth,  in  her  seclusion,  had  received  any 
corroborative  vision,  or  even  that  she  had  been  super- 
naturally  enlightened.     Had  she  not  the  message  the 
angel  delivered  to  Zacharias  ?  and  was  not  that  enough  ? 
Her  son  was  to  be  the  Christ's  forerunner,  going,  as  the 
angel  said,  before  the  face  of  "  the  Lord."     Three  times 
had  the  angel  designated  the   Coming   One  as  "the 
Lord,"  and  this  was  the  word  she  had  carried  with  her 
into  her  seclusion.     What  it  meant  she  did  not  fully 
understand ;  but  she  knew  this,  that  it  was  He  of  whom 
Moses  and  the  prophets  had  written,  the  Shiloh,  the 
Wonderful;    and   as   she   put   together   the   detached 
Scriptures,  adding,  doubtless,  some  guesses  of  her  own, 
the  Christ  grew  as  a  conception  of  her  mind  and  the 
desire  of  her  heart  into  such  colossal  proportions  that 
even  her  own   offspring  was  dwarfed  in  comparison, 
and  the  thoughts  of  her  own  maternity  became,  in  the 
rush  of  greater  thoughts,  only  as  the  stray  eddies  of  the 
stream.     That  such  was  the  drift  of  her  thoughts  during 
the  five  quiet  months  is  evident ;  for  now,  taught  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  that  her  kinswoman  is  to  be  the  mother  of 
the  expected  One,  she  greets  the  unborn  Christ  with  her 
lesser  Benedict™.     Like  the  old  painters,  she  puts  her 
aureole  of  song  around  the  mother's  head,  but  it  is  easy 
to  see  that  the  mother's  honours  are  but  the  far-off 
reflections  from  the   Child.     Is  Mary  blessed  among 
women?   it  is   not  because  of  any  wealth   of  native 
grace,  but  because  of  the  fruit  of  her  womb.     Does 
Elisabeth  throw  herself  right  back  in  the  shade,  asking 
almost  abjectly,  "  Whence  is  this  to  me  ?  "  it  is  because, 
like  the  centurion,  she  feels  herself  unworthy  that  even 
the  unborn  "  Lord  "  should  come  under  her  roof.     And 


38  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

so,  while  this  song  is  really  an  ode  to  the  Virgin,  it  is 
virtually  Elisabeth's  salute  of  the  Christ  who  is  to  be, 
a  salute  in  which  her  own  offspring  takes  part,  for  she 
speaks  of  his  "  leaping  "  in  her  womb,  as  if  he  were  a 
participant  in  her  joy,  interpreting  its  movements  as 
a  sort  of  M  Hail,  Master  ! "  The  canticle  thus  becomes 
invested  with  a  higher  significance.  Its  words  say 
much,  but  suggest  more.  It  carries  our  thought  out 
from  the  seen  to  the  unseen,  from  the  mother  to  the 
Holy  Child,  and  Elisabeth's  song  thus  becomes  the 
earliest  "  Hosannah  to  the  Son  of  David,"  the  first 
prelude  to  the  unceasing  anthems  that  are  to  follow. 

It  will  be  observed  that  in  the  last  line  the  song 
drops  out  of  the  first  and  the  second  personals  into 
the  third.  It  is  no  longer  the  frequent  "  thy,"  "  thou," 
"my,"  but  "she:"  " Happy  is  she  that  believed." 
Why  is  this  change  ?  Why  does  she  not  end  as  she 
began— "  Happy  art  thou  who  hast  believed  "  ?  Simply 
because  she  is  no  longer  speaking  of  Mary  alone.  She 
puts  herself  as  well  within  this  beatitude,  and  at  the 
same  time  states  a  general  law,  how  faith  ripens  into  a 
harvest  of  bles;edness.  The  last  line  thus  becomes 
the  "  Amen  "  of  the  song.  It  reaches  up  among  the 
eternal  "  Verilies,"  and  sets  them  ringing.  It  speaks 
of  the  Divine  faithfulness,  out  of  which  and  within 
which  human  faith  grows  as  an  acorn  within  its  cup. 
And  who  could  have  better  right  to  sing  of  the  blessed- 
ness of  faith,  and  to  introduce  this  New  Testament 
grace — not  unknown  in  the  Old  Testament,  but  un- 
named— as  she  who  was  herself  such  an  exemplification 
of  her  theme  ?  How  calmly  her  own  heart  reposed  on 
the  Divine  word  !  How  before  her  far-seeing  and 
foreseeing  vision  valleys  were  exalted,  mountains  and 
hills  made  low,  that  the  way  of  the  Lord  might  appear ! 


THE  GOSPEL  PSALMS.  39 


Elisabeth  sees  the  unseen  Christ,  lays  before  Him  the 
tribute  of  her  song,  the  treasures  of  her  affection  and 
devotion ;  even  before  the  Magi  had  saluted  the  Child- 
King,  Elisabeth's  heart  had  gone  out  to  meet  Him  with 
her  hosannas,  and  her  lips  had  greeted  Him  "My 
Lord."  Elisabeth  is  thus  the  first  singer  of  the  New 
Dispensation;  and  though  her  song  is  more  a  bud  of 
poetry  than  the  ripe,  blossomed  flower,  enfolding  rather 
than  unfolding  its  hidden  beauties,  it  pours  out  a 
fragrance  sweeter  than  spikenard  on  the  feet  of  the 
Coming  One,  while  it  throws  around  Him  the  purple  of 
new  royalties. 

Turning  now  to  the  song  of  Mary,  our  Magnificat, 
we  come  to  poetry  of  a  higher  order.  Elisabeth's 
introit  was  evidently  spoken  under  intense  feeling ;  it 
was  the  music  of  the  storm  ;  for  "  she  lifted  up  her 
voice  with  a  loud  cry."  Mary's  song,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  calm,  the  hymn  of  the  "  quiet  resting-place." 
There  is  no  unnatural  excitement  now,  no  inward 
perturbation,  half  mental  and  half  physical.  Mary  was 
perfectly  self-possessed,  as  if  the  spell  of  some  Divine 
"peace"  were  upon  her  soul ;  and  as  Elisabeth's  "loud 
cry"  ceased,  Mary  "said"— so  it  reads— her  response. 
But  if  the  voice  was  lower,  the  thought  was  higher, 
more  majestic  in  its  sweep.  Elisabeth's  song  was  on 
the  lower  heights.  "The  mother  of  my  Lord,"  this 
was  its  starting-place,  and  the  centre  around  which  its 
circles  were  described  ;  and  though  its  wings  beat  now 
and  again  against  the  infinities,  it  does  not  attempt  to 
explore  them,  but  returns  timidly  to  its  nest.  But 
Elisabeth's  loftiest  reach  is  Mary's  starting-point;  her 
song  begins  where  the  song  of  Elisabeth  ends.  Strik- 
ing her  key-note  in  the  first  line,  "The  Lord,"  this  is 
her  one  thought,  the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  her  psalm. 


40  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

We  call  it  the  Magnificat ;  it  is  a  Te  Deum,  full  of  sug- 
gested doxologies.  Beginning  with  the  personal  as  she 
is  almost  compelled  to  do  by  the  intense  personality  of 
Elizabeth's  song,  Mary  hastes  to  gather  up  the  eulogies 
bestowed  upon  herself,  and  to  bear  them  forward  to 
Him  who  merits  all  praise,  as  He  is  the  Source  of  all 
blessing.  Her  soul  "  magnifies  the  Lord,"  not  that  she, 
by  any  weak  words  of  hers,  can  add  to  His  greatness, 
which  is  infinite,  but  even  she  may  give  the  Lord  a 
wider  place  within  her  thoughts  and  heart ;  and  who- 
ever is  silent,  her  song  shall  make  °  the  voice  of  His 
praise  to  be  heard."  Her  spirit  "  hath  rejoiced  in  God 
her  Saviour,"  and  why  ?  Has  He  not  looked  down  on 
her  low  estate,  and  done  great  things  for  her  ?  u  The 
bondmaid  of  the  Lord,"  as  she  a  second  time  calls 
herself,  glorying  in  her  bonds,  such  is  her  promotion 
and  exaltation  that  all  generations  shall  call  her  blessed. 
Then,  with  a  beautiful  effacement  of  self,  which  hence- 
forth is  not  even  to  be  a  mote  playing  in  the  sunshine, 
she  sings  of  Jehovah — His  holiness,  His  might,  His 
mercy,  His  faithfulness. 

Mary's  song,  both  in  its  tone  and  language,  belongs 
to  the  Old  Dispensation.  Thoroughly  Hebraic,  and  all 
inlaid  with  Old  Testament  quotations,  it  is  the  swan- 
song  of  Hebraism.  There  is  not  a  single  phrase, 
perhaps  not  a  single  word,  that  bears  a  distinctive 
Christian  stamp  ;  for  the  "  Saviour  "  of  the  first  strophe 
is  the  "  Saviour  "  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  not  of  the 
New,  with  a  national  rather  than  an  evangelical  mean- 
ing. The  heart  of  the  singer  is  turned  to  the  past 
rather  than  to  the  future.  Indeed,  with  the  solitary 
exception,  how  all  generations  shall  call  her  blessed, 
there  is  no  passing  glimpse  into  the  future.  Instead  of 
speaking  of  the  Expected  One,  and  blessing  "  the  fruit 


THE  GOSPEL  PSALMS. 


of  her  womb/'  her  song  does  not  even  mention  Him. 
She  tells  how  the  Lord  hath  done  great  things  for  her, 
but  what  those  " great  things"  are  she  does  not  say; 
she  might,  as  far  as  her  own  song  tells  us,  be  simply 
a  later  Miriam,  singing  of  some  family  or  personal 
deliverance,  a  salvation  which  was  one  of  a  thousand. 
A  true  daughter  of  Israel,  she  dwells  among  her  own 
people,  and  her  very  broadest  vision  sees  in  her  off- 
spring no  world-wide  blessing,  only  a  Deliverer  for 
Israel,  His  servant.  Does  she  speak  of  mercy  ?  it  is 
not  that  wider  mercy  that  like  a  sea  laves  every  shore, 
bearing  on  its  still  bosom  a  redeemed  humanity  ;  it  is 
the  narrower  mercy  "  toward  Abraham  and  his  seed  for 
ever."  Mary  recognizes  the  unity  of  the  Godhead,  but 
she  does  not  recognize  the  unity,  the  brotherhood  of 
man.  Her  thought  gees  back  to  "our  fathers,"  but 
there  it  halts;  the  shrunken  sinew  of  Hebrew  thought 
could  not  cross  the  prior  centuries,  to  find  the  world's 
common  father  in  Paradise.  But  in  saying  this  we  do 
not  depreciate  Mary's  song.  It  is,  and  ever  will  be,  the 
Magnificat,  great  in  its  theme,  and  great  in  its  concep- 
tion. Following  the  flight  of  Hannah's  song,  and  mak- 
ing use  of  its  wings  at  times,  it  soars  far  above,  and 
sweeps  far  beyond  its  original.  Not  even  David  sings 
of  Jehovah  in  more  exalted  strains.  The  holiness  of 
God,  the  might  supreme  above  all  powers,  the  faithful- 
ness that  cannot  forget,  and  that  never  fails  to  fulfil, 
the  Divine  choice  and  exaltation  of  the  lowly — these 
four  chief  chords  of  the  Hebrew  Psalter  Mary  strikes 
with  a  touch  that  is  sweet  as  it  is  clear. 

Mary  sang  of  God  ;  she  did  not  sing  of  the  Christ. 
Indeed,  how  could  she  ?  The  Christ  to  be  was  part  of 
her  own  life,  part  of  herself;  how  could  she  sing  His 
praise  without  an  appearance  of  egotism  and  self-gratu- 


42  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

lation  ?  There  are  times  when  silence  is  more  eloquent 
than  speech ;  and  Mary's  silence  about  the  Christ  was 
but  the  silence  of  the  winged  cherubim,  as  they  bend 
over  the  ark,  beholding  and  feeling  a  mystery  they  can 
neither  know  nor  tell.  It  was  the  hush  inspired  by 
a  near  and  glorious  presence.  And  so  the  Magnificat, 
while  it  tells  us  nothing  of  the  Christ,  swings  our 
thoughts  around  towards  Him,  sets  us  listening  for 
His  advent ;  and  Mary's  silence  is  but  the  setting  for 
the  Incarnate  WORD. 

The  scng  of  Zacharias  follows  that  of  Mary,  not 
only  in  the  order  of  time,  but  also  in  its  sequence  of 
thought.  It  forms  a  natural  postiude  to  the  Magnificat, 
while  both  are  but  different  parts  of  one  song,  this 
earliest  "  Messiah."  It  is  something  remarkable  that 
our  first  three  Christian  hymns  should  have  their  birth 
in  the  same  nameless  city  of  Judah,  in  the  same  house, 
and  probably  in  the  same  chamber ;  for  the  room, 
which  now  is  filled  with  the  priest's  relatives,  and 
where  Zacharias  breaks  the  long  silence  with  his  pro- 
phetic Benedichts,  is  doubtless  the  same  room  where 
Elisabeth  chanted  her  greeting,  and  Mary  sang  her 
Magnificat.  The  song  of  Mary  circled  about  the 
throne  of  Jehovah,  nor  could  she  leave  that  throne, 
even  to  tell  the  great  things  the  Lord  had  done  for 
her.  Zacharias,  coming  down  from  his  mount  of  vision 
and  of  silence,  gives  us  a  wider  outlook  into  the 
Divine  purpose.  He  sings  of  the  "  salvation  "  of  the 
Lord  ;  and  salvation,  as  it  is  the  key-note  of  the  heavenly 
song,  is  the  key-note  of  the  Benedictus.  Does  he  bless 
the  Lord,  the  God  of  Israel  ?  it  is  because  He  has 
"visited"  (or  looked  upon)  "  His  people,  and  wrought 
redemption  for"  them;  it  is  because  He  has  provided 
an  abundant  salvation,  or  a  "horn  of  salvation/'  as 


THE  GOSPEL  PSALMS.  43 

he  calls  it.  Has  God  remembered  His  covenant,  "  the 
oath  He  sware  unto  Abraham"?  has  He  "shown 
mercy  towards  their  fathers  "  ?  that  mercy  and  faithful- 
ness are  seen  in  this  wonderful  salvation — a  salvation 
"from  their  enemies,"  and  "from  the  hand  of  all  that 
hate  "  them.  Is  his  child  to  be  "  the  prophet  of  the 
Most  High,"  going  "  before  the  face  of  the  Lord,"  and 
making  "  ready  His  ways  "  ?  it  is  that  he  may  "  give 
knowledge  of"  this  "salvation,"  in  "the  remission  of 
sins."  Then  the  psalm  ends,  falling  back  on  its  key- 
note ;  for  who  are  they  who  "  sit  in  darkness  and  the 
shadow  of  death,"  but  a  people  lost  ?  And  who  is  the 
Day-spring  who  visits  them  from  on  high,  who  shines 
upon  their  darkness,  turning  it  into  day,  and  guiding 
their  lost  feet  into  the  way  of  peace,  but  the  Redeemer, 
the  Saviour,  whose  name  is  "  Wonderful  "  ?  And  so 
the  Benedictus,  while  retaining  the  form  and  the  very 
language  of  the  Old,  breathes  the  spirit  of  the  New 
Dispensation.  It  is  a  fragrant  breeze,  blowing  off  from 
the  shores  of  a  new,  and  now  near  world,  a  world 
already  seen  and  possessed  by  Zacharias  in  the  anti- 
cipations of  faith.  The  Saviour  whose  advent  the 
inspired  priest  proclaims  is  no  mere  national  deliverer, 
driving  back  those  eagles  of  Rome,  and  rebuilding  the 

throne  of  his  father  David.     He  might   be  all  that 

for  even  prophetic  vision  had  not  sweep  of  the  whole 
horizon;  it  only  saw  the  little  segment  of  the  circle 
that  was  Divinely  illumined — but  to  Zacharias  He  was 
more,  a  great  deal  more.  He  was  a  Redeemer  as  well 
as  Deliverer ;  and  a  "  redemption " — for  it  was  a 
Temple  word— meant  a  price  laid  down,  something 
given.  The  salvation  of  which  Zacharias  speaks  is  not 
simply  a  deliverance  from  our  political  enemies,  and 
from  the  hand  of  all  that  hate  us.     It  was  a  salvation 


44  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

higher,  broader,  deeper  than  that,  a  "  salvation  "  that 
reached  to  the  profound  depths  of  the  human  soul,  and 
that  sounded  its  jubilee  there,  in  the  remission  of  sin 
and  deliverance  from  sin.  Sin  was  the  enemy  to  be 
vanquished  and  dest^ed,  and  the  shadow  of  death 
was  but  the  shadow  of  sin.  And  Zacharias  sings 
of  this  great  redemption  that  leads  to  salvation,  while 
the  salvation  leads  into  the  Divine  peace,  to  "  holiness 
and  righteousness,"  and  a  service  that  is  "  without 
fear." 

The  ark  of  Israel  was  borne  by  four  of  the  sons  of 
Kohath;  and  here  this  ark  of  song  and  prophecy  is 
borne  of  four  sweet  singers,  the  sexes  dividing  the 
honours  equally.  We  have  listened  to  the  songs  of 
three,  and  have  seen  how  they  follow  each  other  in 
a  regular,  rhythmic  succession,  the  thought  moving 
forward  and  outward  in  ever-widening  circles.  Where 
is  the  fourth  ?  and  what  is  the  burden  of  his  song  ? 
It  is  heard  within  the  precincts  of  the  Temple,  as  the 
parents  bring  the  Child  Jesus,  to  introduce  Him  to 
the  visible  sanctities  of  religion,  and  to  consecrate  Him 
to  the  Lord.  It  is  the  Nunc  Dimittis  of  the  aged 
Simeon.  He  too  sings  of  "  salvation,"  u  Thy  salvation  " 
as  he  calls  it  It  is  the  "  consolation  of  Israel "  he 
has  looked  for  so  ardently  and  so  long,  and  which  the 
Holy  Ghost  had  assured  him  he  should  behold  before 
his  promotion  to  the  higher  temple.  But  the  vision 
of  Simeon  was  wider  than  that  of  Zacharias,  as  that 
in  turn  was  wider  and  clearer  than  the  vision  of  Mary. 
Zacharias  saw  the  spiritual  nature  of  this  near  salvation, 
and  he  described  it  in  words  singularly  deep  and 
accurate ;  but  its  breadth  he  did  not  seem  to  realize. 
The  theocracy  was  the  atmosphere  in  which  he  lived 
and  moved;  and  even  his  vision  was  theocratic,  and 


THE  GOSPEL  PSALMS.  45 

so  somewhat  narrow.  His  Benedictus  was  for  the  "God 
of  Israel/'  and  the  "  redemption "  he  sang  was  "  for 
His  people."  The  "horn  of  salvation"  is  "for  us;" 
and  all  through  his  psalm  these  first  personal  pronouns 
are  frequent  and  emphatic,  as  if  he  would  still  insulate 
this  favoured  people,  and  give  them  a  monopoly  even 
of  "redemption."  The  aged  Simeon,  however,  stands 
on  a  higher  Pisgah.  His  is  the  nearer  and  the  clearer 
vision.  Standing  as  he  does  in  the  Court  of  the 
Gentiles,  and  holding  in  his  arms  the  Infant  Christ, 
"the  Lord's  Christ,"  h?  sees  in  Him  a  Saviour  for 
humanity,  "  the  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sin 
of  the  world."  Still,  as  ever,  "  the  glory  of  God's 
people  Israel,"  but  likewise  "  a  light  for  the  unveiling 
of  the  Gentiles."  Like  the  sentry  who  keeps  watch 
through  the  night  till  the  sunrise,  Simeon  has  been 
watching  and  longing  for  the  Day-spring  from  on  high, 
reading  from  the  stars  of  promise  the  wearing  of  the 
night,  and  with  the  music  of  fond  hopes  "  keeping 
his  heart  awake  till  dawn  of  morn."  Now  at  length 
the  consummation,  which  is  the  consolation,  comes. 
Simeon  sees  in  the  Child  Jesus  the  world's  hope  and 
Light,  a  salvation  "  prepared  before  the  face  of  all 
people."  And  seeing  this,  he  sees  all  he  desires. 
Earth  can  give  no  brighter  vision,  no  deeper  joy,  and 
all  his  request  is — 

"  Now  lettest  Thou  Thy  servant  depart,  O  Lord, 
According  to  Thy  word,  in  peace; 
For  mine  e37es  have  seen  Thy  salvation." 

And  so  the  four  psalms  of  the  Gospels  form  in 
reality  but  one  song,  the  notes  rising  higher  and  still 
higher,  until  they  reach  the  very  pinnacle  of  the  new 
temple — God's  purpose  and  plan  of  redemption  ;  that 


46  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

temple  whose  altar  is  a  cross,  and  whose  Victim  is  "  the 
Lamb  slain  from  the  foundation  of  the  world ; "  that 
temple  where  courts  and  dividing-lines  all  disappear; 
where  the  Holiest  of  all  lies  open  to  a  redeemed 
humanity,  and  Jews  and  Gentiles,  bond  and  free,  old 
and  young,  are  alike  "  kings  and  priests  unto  God." 
And  so  the  Gospel  psalms  throw  back,  as  it  were,  in  a 
thousand  echoes,  the  Glorias  of  the  Advent  angels,  as 
they  sing — 

"Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 
And  on  earth  peace." 

And  what  is  this  but  earth's  prelude  or  rehearsal  for 
the  heavenly  song,  as  all  nations,  and  kindreds,  and 
peoples,  and  tongues,  falling  down  before  the  Lamb  in 
the  midst  of  the  throne,  sing,  "  Salvation  unto  our 
God,  which  sitteth  upon  the  thronet  and  unto  the 
Lamb"? 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    VIRGIN  MOTHER. 

THE  Beautiful  Gate  of  the  Jewish  Temple  opened 
into  the  "  Court  of  the  Women  " — so  named  from 
the  fact  that  they  were  not  allowed  any  nearer  approach 
towards  the  Holy  Place.  And  as  we  open  the  gate  of 
the  third  Gospel  we  enter  the  Court  of  the  Women ; 
for  more  than  any  other  Evangelist,  St.  Luke  records 
their  loving  and  varied  ministries.  Perhaps  this  is 
owing  to  his  profession,  which  naturally  would  bring 
him  into  more  frequent  contact  with  feminine  life.  Or 
perhaps  it  is  a  little  Philippian  colour  thrown  into  his 
Gospel ;  for  we  must  not  forget  that  St.  Luke  had  been 
left  by  the  Apostle  Paul  at  Philippi,  to  superintend  the 
Church  that  had  been  cradled  in  the  prayers  of  the 
"river-side"  women.  It  may  be  a  tinge  of  Lydia's 
purple;  or  to  speak  more  broadly  and  more  literally, 
it  may  be  the  subtle,  unconscious  influences  of  that 
Philippian  circle  that  have  given  a  certain  feminity  to 
cur  third  Gospel.  St.  Luke  alone  gives  us  the  psalms 
of  the  three  women,  Anna,  Elisabeth,  and  Mary;  he 
alone  gives  us  the  names  of  Susanna  and  Joanna,  who 
ministered  to  Christ  of  their  substance;  he  alone  gives 
us  that  Galilean  idyll,  where  the  nameless  "  woman  " 
bathes  His  feet  with  tears,  and  at  the  same  time  rains 
a  hot  rebuke  on  the  cold   civilities  of  the  Pharisee, 


48  THE  CCSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

Simon  ;  he  alone  tells  of  the  widow  of  Zarephath,  who 
welcomed  and  saved  a  prophet  men  were  seeking  to 
slay;  he  alone  tells  us  of  the  widow  of  Nain,  of  the 
woman  bent  with  infirmity,  and  of  the  woman  grieving 
over  her  lost  piece  of  silvei.  And  as  St.  Luke  opens 
his  Gospel  with  woman's  tribute  of  song,  so  in  his  last 
chapter  he  paints  for  us  that  group  of  women,  constant 
amid  man's  inconstancies,  coming  ere  the  break  of  day, 
to  wrap  around  the  bod}'-  of  the  dead  Christ  the  precious 
and  fragrant  offering  of  devotion.  So,  in  this  Paradise 
Restored,  do  Eve's  daughters  roll  back  the  reproach  of 
their  mother.  But  ever  first  and  foremost  among  the 
women  of  the  Gospels  we  must  place  the  Virgin 
Mother,  whose  character  and  position  in  the  Gospel 
story  we  are  now  to  consider. 

We  need  not  stay  to  discuss  the  question — perhaps 
we  ought  not  to  stay  even  to  give  it  a  passing  notice — 
whether  there  might  have  been  an  Incarnation  even 
had  there  been  no  sin.  It  is  not  an  impossible,  it  is 
not  an  improbable  supposition,  that  the  Christ  would 
have  come  into  the  world  even  had  man  kept  his  first 
estate  of  innocence  and  bliss.  But  then  it  would  have 
been  the  " Christ"  simply,  and  not  Jesus  Christ.  He 
would  have  come  into  the  world,  not  as  its  Redeemer, 
but  as  the  Son  and  Heir,  laying  tribute  on  all  its 
harvests ;  He  would  have  come  as  the  flower  and 
crown  of  a  perfected  humanity,  to  show  the  possibilities 
of  that  humanity,  its  absolute  perfections.  But  leaving 
the  "  might-have-beens,"  in  whose  tenuous  spaces  there 
is  room  for  the  nebulas  of  fancies  and  of  guesses  with- 
out number,  let  us  narrow  our  vision  within  the  horizon 
of  the  real,  the  actual. 

Given  the  necessity  for  an  Incarnation,  there  are  two 
modes  in  which  that  Incarnation  may  be  brought  about 


THE   VIRGIN  MOTHER.  49 

— by  creation,  or  by  birth.  The  first  Adam  came  into 
the  world  by  the  creative  act  of  God.  Without  the 
intervention  of  second  causes,  or  any  waiting  for  the 
slow  lapse  of  time,  God  spake,  and  it  was  done.  Will 
Scripture  repeat  itself  here,  in  the  new  Genesis?  and 
will  the  second  Adam,  coming  into  the  world  to  repair 
the  ruin  wrought  by  the  first,  come  as  did  the  first  ? 
We  can  easily  conceive  such  an  advent  to  be  possible ; 
and  if  we  regarded  simply  the  analogies  of  the  case, 
we  might  even  suppose  it  to  be  probable.  But  how 
different  a  Christ  it  would  have  been !  He  might  still 
have  been  bone  of  our  bone,  Mesh  of  our  flesh;  lie 
might  have  spoken  the  same  truths,  in  the  same  speech 
and  tone ;  but  He  must  have  lived  apart  from  the  world. 
It  would  not  be  our  humanity  that  tie  wore ;  it  would 
only  be  its  shadow,  its  semblance,  pla}'ing  before  our 
minds  like  an  illusion.  No,  the  Messiah  must  not  be 
simply  a  second  Adam ;  He  must  be  the  Son  of  Man, 
and  He  cannot  become  Humanity's  Son  except  by  a 
human  birth.  Any  other  advent,  even  though  it  had 
satisfied  the  claims  of  reason,  would  have  failed  to 
satisfy  those  deeper  voices  of  the  heart.  And  so,  on 
the  first  pages  of  Scripture,  before  Eden's  gate  is  shut 
and  locked  by  bolts  of  flame,  Heaven  signifies  its 
intention  and  decision.  The  coming  One,  who  shall 
bruise  the  serpent's  head,  shall  be  the  woman's  "Seed" 
— the  Son  of  woman,  that  so  He  may  become  more 
truly  the  Son  of  Man;  while  later  a  strange  expres- 
sion finds  its  way  into  the  sacred  prophecy,  how  u  a 
Virgin  shall  conceive,  and  bear  a  son."  It  is  true 
these  words  primarily  might  have  a  local  meaning  and 
fulfilment — though  what  that  narrower  meaning  was 
no  one  can  tell  with  any  approach  to  certainty;  but 
looking  at  the  singularity  of  the  expression,  and  coupling 

4 


50  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

it  with  the  story  of  the  Advent,  we  can  but  see  in  it 
a  deeper  meaning  and  a  wider  purpose.  Evidently  it 
was  that  the  virgin-conception  might  strike  upon  the 
world's  ear  and  become  a  familiar  thought,  and  that 
it  might  throw  backwards  across  the  pages  of  the  Old 
Testament  the  shadow  of  the  Virgin  Mother.  We  have 
already  seen  how  the  thought  of  a  Messianic  mother- 
hood had  dropped  deep  within  the  heart  of  the  Hebrew 
people,  awaking  hopes,  and  prayers,  and  all  sorts  of 
beautiful  dreams — dreams,  alas  !  that  vanished  with  the 
years,  and  hopes  that  blossomed  but  to  fade.  But  now 
the  hour  is  coming,  that  supreme  hour  for  which  the 
centuries  have  all  been  waiting.  The  forerunner  is 
already  announced,  and  in  twelve  short  weeks  he  who 
loved  to  call  himself  a  Voice  will  break  the  strange 
silence  of  that  Judsean  home.  Whence  will  come  his 
Lord,  who  shall  be  "  greater  than  he  "  ?  Where  shall 
we  find  the  Mother-elect,  for  whom  such  honours  have 
been  reserved — honours  such  as  no  mortal  has  ever 
yet  borne,  and  as  none  will  ever  bear  again  ?  St. 
Luke  tells  us,  "  Now  in  the  sixth  month  the  angel 
Gabriel  was  sent  from  God  unto  a  city  of  Galilee, 
named  Nazareth,  to  a  virgin  betrothed  to  a  man  whose 
name  was  Joseph,  of  the  house  of  David;  and  the 
virgin's  name  was  Mary"  (R.V.).  And  so  the  Mother- 
designate  takes  her  place  in  this  firmament  of  Scrip- 
ture, silently  and  serenely  as  a  morning  star,  which 
indeed  she  is ;  for  she  shines  in  a  borrowed  splendour, 
taking  her  glories  all  from  Him  around  whom  she 
revolves,  from  Him  who  was  both  her  Son  and  her 
Sun. 

It  will  be  seen  in  the  above  verse  how  particular  the 
Evangelist  is  in  his  topographical  reference,  putting  a 
kind  of  emphasis  upon  the  name  which  now  appears 


THE   VIRGIN  MOTHER.  51 

for  the  first  time  upon  the  pages  of  Scripture.  When 
we  remember  how  Nazareth  was  honoured  by  the 
angel  visit ;  how  it  was,  not  the  chance,  but  the  chosen 
home  of  the  Christ  for  thirty  years ;  how  it  watched  and 
guarded  the  Divine  Infancy,  throwing  into  that  life  its 
powerful  though  unconscious  influences,  even  as  the 
dead  soil  throws  itself  forward  and  upward  into  each 
separate  flower  and  farthest  leaf;  when  we  remember 
how  it  linked  its  own  name  with  the  Name  of  Jesus, 
becoming  almost  a  part  of  it ;  how  it  wrote  its  name 
upon  the  cross,  then  handing  it  down  to  the  ages  as 
the  name  and  watchword  of  a  sect  that  should  conquer 
the  world,  we  must  admit  that  Nazareth  is  by  no  means 
"the  least  among  the  cities"  of  Israel.  And  yet  we 
search  in  vain  through  the  Old  Testament  for  the  name 
of  Nazareth.  History,  poetry,  and  prophecy  alike  pass 
it  by  in  silence.  And  so  the  Hebrew  mind,  while 
rightly  linking  the  expected  One  with  Bethlehem,  never 
associated  the  Christ  with  Nazareth.  Indeed,  its  mo- 
ralities had  become  so  questionable  and  proverbial 
that  while  the  whole  of  Galilee  was  too  dry  a  ground 
to  grow  a  prophet,  Nazareth  was  thought  incapable  of 
producing  "any  good  thing."  Was,  then,  the  Nazareth 
chapter  of  the  Christ-life  an  afterthought  of  the  Divine 
Mind,  like  the  marginal  reading  of  an  author's  proof, 
put  in  to  fill  up  a  blank  or  to  be  a  substitute  for  some 
erasure?  Not  so.  It  had  been  in  the  Divine  Mind 
from  the  beginning;  yea,  it  had  been  in  the  autho- 
rized text,  though  men  had  not  read  it  plainly.  It  is 
St.  Matthew  who  first  calls  our  attention  to  it.  Writing, 
as  he  dees,  mainly  for  Hebrew  readers,  he  is  constantly 
looping  up  his  story  with  the  Old  Testament  prophecies; 
and  speaking  of  the  return  from  Egypt,  he  says  they 
"  came  and   dwelt   in  a  city  called  Nazareth :  that  it 


52  THE   GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

might  be  fulfilled  which  was  spoken  by  the  prophets, 
that  He  should  be  called  a  Nazarene."  We  said  just 
now  that  the  name  of  Nazareth  was  not  found  in  the 
Old  Testament.  But  if  we  do  not  find  the  proper 
name,  we  find  the  word  which  is  identical  with  the 
name.  It  is  now  regarded  by  competent  authorities  as 
proved  that  the  Hebrew  name  for  Nazareth  was  Netser. 
Taking  now  this  word  in  our  mind,  and  turning  to 
Isaiah  xi.  I,  we  read,  "And  there  shall  come  forth  a 
shoot  out  of  the  stock  of  Jesse,  and  a  branch  [Netser] 
out  of  his  roots  shall  bear  fruit :  and  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  shall  rest  upon  Him."  Here,  then,  evidently, 
is  the  prophetic  voice  to  which  St.  Matthew  refers; 
and  one  little  word — the  name  of  Nazareth — becomes 
the  golden  link  binding  in  one  the  Prophecies  and  the 
Gospels. 

Returning  to  our  main  subject,  it  is  to  this  secluded, 
and  somewhat  despised  city  of  Nazareth  the  angel 
Gabriel  is  now  sent,  to  announce  the  approaching  birth 
of  Christ.  St.  Luke,  in  his  nominative  way  of  speaking, 
says  he  came  "  to  a  Virgin  betrothed  to  a  man  whose 
name  was  Joseph,  of  the  house  of  David ;  and  the 
Virgin's  name  was  Mary."  It  is  difficult  for  us  to  form 
an  unbiassed  estimate  of  the  character  before  us,  as 
our  minds  are  feeling  the  inevitable  recoil  from  Roman 
assumptions.  We  are  confused  with  the  childish  prattle 
of  their  Ave  Marias;  we  are  amused  at  their  dogmas  of 
Immaculate  Conceptions  and  Ever  Virginities ;  we  are 
surprised  and  shocked  at  their  apotheosis  of  the  Virgin, 
as  they  lift  her  to  a  throne  practically  higher  than  that 
of  her  Son,  worshipped  in  devouter  homage,  suppli- 
cated with  more  earnest  and  more  frequent  prayers, 
and  at  the  blasphemies  of  their  Mariolatry,  which 
make  her  supreme  on  earth  and  supreme  in  heaven. 


THE  VIRGIN  MOTHER.  53 

This  undue  exaltation  of  the  Virgin  Mother,  which 
becomes  an  adoration  pure  and  simple,  sends  our  Protes- 
tant thought  with  a  violent  swing  to  the  extreme  of  the 
other  side,  considerably  over  the  line  of  the  "  golden 
mean."  And  so  we  find  it  hard  to  dissociate  in  our 
minds  the  Virgin  Mother  from  these  Marian  assumptions 
and  divinations;  for  which,  however,  she  herself  is  in 
no  way  responsible,  and  against  which  she  would  be 
the  first  to  protest.  Seen  only  through  these  Romish 
haloes,  and  atmospheres  highly  incensed,  her  very  name 
has  been  distorted,  and  her  features,  spoiled  of  all  grace 
and  sweet  serenity,  have  ceased  to  be  attractive.  But 
this  is  not  just.  If  Rome  weights  one  scale  with  crowns, 
and  sceptres,  and  piles  of  imperial  purple,  we  need  not 
load  down  the  other  with  our  prejudices,  satires,  and 
negations.  Two  wrongs  will  not  make  a  right.  It  is 
neither  on  the  crest  of  the  wave,  nor  yet  in  the  deep 
trough  of  the  billows,  that  we  shall  find  the  mean  sea- 
level,  from  which  we  can  measure  all  heights,  running 
out  our  lines  even  among  the  stars.  Can  we  not  find 
that  mean  sea-level  now,  hushing  alike  the  voices  of 
adulation  and  of  depreciation  ?  Laying  aside  the  tradi- 
tions of  antiquity  and  the  legends  of  scribulous  monks, 
laying  aside,  too,  the  coloured  glasses  of  our  prejudice, 
with  which  we  have  been  wont  to  protect  our  eyes  from 
the  glare  of  Roman  suns,  may  we  not  get  a  true  por- 
traiture of  the  Virgin  Mother,  in  all  the  native  natural- 
ness of  Scripture  ?     We  think  we  can. 

She  comes  upon  us  silently  and  suddenly,  emerging 
from  an  obscurity  whose  secrets  we  cannot  read.  No 
mention  is  made  of  her  parents ;  tradition  only  has 
supplied  us  with  their  names — Joachim  and  Anna.  But 
whether  Joachim  or  not,  it  is  certain  that  her  father 
was  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,  and  of  the  house  of  David. 


54  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 


Having  this  fact  to  guide  us,  and  also  another  fact, 
that  Mary  was  closely  related  to  Elisabeth — though  not 
necessarily  her  cousin — who  was  of  the  tribe  of  Levi 
and  a  daughter  of  Aaron,  then  it  becomes  probable,  at 
least,  that  the  unnamed  mother  of  the  Virgin  was  of 
the  tribe  of  Levi,  and  so  the  connecting-link  between 
the  houses  of  Levi  and  Judah — a  probability  which 
receives  an  indirect  but  strong  confirmation  in  the  fact 
that  Nazareth  was  intimately  connected  with  Jerusalem 
and  the  Temple,  one  of  the  cities  selected  as  a  residence 
of  the  priests.  May  we  not,  then,  suppose  that  this 
unnamed  mother  of  the  Virgin  was  a  daughter  of  one 
of  the  priests  then  residing  at  Nazareth,  and  that  Mary's 
relatives  on  the  mother's  side — some  of  them — were 
also  priests,  going  up  at  stated  times  to  Jerusalem,  to 
perform  their  "  course  "  of  Temple  services  ?  It  is  cer- 
tainly a  most  natural  supposition,  and  one,  too,  that 
will  help  to  remove  some  subsequent  difficulties  in  the 
story ;  as,  for  instance,  the  journey  of  Mary  to  Judaea. 
Some  honest  minds  have  stumbled  at  that  long  journey 
of  a  hundred  miles,  while  others  have  grown  pathetic 
in  their  descriptions  of  that  lonely  pilgrimage  of  the 
Galilean  Virgin.  But  it  is  neither  necessary  nor  likely 
that  Mary  should  take  the  journey  alone.  Her  connec- 
tion with  the  priesthood,  if  our  supposition  be  correct, 
would  find  her  an  escort,  even  among  her  own  relatives, 
as  least  as  far  as  Jerusalem ;  and  since  the  priestly 
courses  were  half-yearly  in  their  service,  it  would  be 
just  the  time  the  "  course  of  Abijah,"  in  which  Zacharias 
served,  would  be  returning  once  again  to  their  Judaean 
homes.  It  is  only  a  supposition,  it  is  true,  but  it  is  a 
supposition  that  is  extremely  natural  and  more  than 
probable ;  and  if  we  look  through  it,  taking  "  Levi " 
and    "Judah"   as   our  binocular   lenses,  it   carries   a 


THE   VIRGIN  MOTHER.  55 

thread  of  light  through  otherwise  dark  places;  while 
throwing  our  sight  forward,  it  brings  distant  Nazareth 
in  line  with  Jerusalem  and  the  "  hill-country  of  Judaea." 
Betrothed  to  Joseph,  who  was  of  the  royal  line,  and 
as  some  think,  the  legal  heir  to  David's  throne,  Mary 
was  probably  not  more  than  twenty  years  of  age. 
Whether  an  orphan  or  not  we  cannot  tell,  though  the 
silence  of  Scripture  would  almost  lead  us  to  suppose 
that  she  was.  Papias,  however,  who  was  a  disciple 
of  St.  John,  states  that  she  had  two  sisters — Mary  the 
wife  of  Cleophas,  and  Mary  Salome  the  wife  of  Zebedee. 
If  this  be  so — and  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should 
discredit  the  statement — then  Mary  the  Virgin  Mother 
would  probably  be  the  eldest  of  the  three  sisters,  the 
house-mother  in  the  Nazareth  home.  Where  it  was 
that  the  angel  appeared  to  her  we  cannot  tell.  Tradi- 
tion, with  one  of  its  random  guesses,  has  fixed  the  spot 
in  the  suburbs,  beside  the  fountain.  But  there  is  some- 
thing incongruous  and  absurd  in  the  selection  of  such 
a  place  for  an  angelic  appearance — the  public  resort  and 
lounge,  where  the  clatter  of  feminine  gossip  was  about 
as  constant  as  the  flow  and  sparkle  of  its  waters.  In- 
deed, the  very  form  of  the  participle  disposes  of  that 
tradition,  for  we  read,  '*  He  came  in  unto  her,"  implying 
that  it  was  within  her  holy  place  of  home  the  angel 
found  her.  Nor  is  there  any  need  to  suppose,  as  some 
do,  that  it  was  in  her  quiet  chamber  of  devotion,  where 
she  was  observing  the  stated  hours  of  prayer.  Celes- 
tials do  not  draw  that  broad  line  of  distinction  between 
so-called  secular  and  sacred  duties.  To  them  "  work  " 
is  but  another  form  of  "  worship,"  and  all  duties  to  them 
are  sacred,  even  when  they  lie  among  life's  temporal, 
and  so-called  secular  things.  Indeed,  Heaven  reserves 
its  highest  visions,  not  for  those  quiet  moments  of  still 


56  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

devotion,  but  for  the  hours  of  busy  toil,  when  mind  and 
body  are  given  to  the  "trivial  rounds"  and  the  "com- 
mon tasks"  of  every-day  life.   Moses  is  at  his  shepherding 
when  the  bush  calls  him  aside,  with  its  tongues  of  fire ; 
Gideon  is  threshing  out  his  wheat  when  God's  angel 
greets  him  and  summons  him  to  the  higher  task ;  and 
Zacharias    is   performing    the    routine   service   of  his 
priestly  office  when  Gabriel  salutes  him  with  the  first 
voice  of  a  New  Dispensation.     And  so  all  the  analogies 
would  lead  us  to  suppose  that  the  Virgin  was  quietly 
engaged  in  her  domestic  duties,  offering  the  sacrifice  of 
her  daily  task,  as  Zacharias  offered  his  incense  of  stacte 
and  onycha,  when  Gabriel  addressed  her,  "  Hail,  thou 
that  art  highly  favoured,  the  Lord  is  with  thee  "  (R.V.). 
The  Romanists,  eager  to^accord  Divine  honours  to  the 
Virgin  Mother  as  the  dispenser  of  blessing  and  of  grace, 
interpret  the  phrase,  "  Thou  that  art  full  of  grace."     It 
is,  perhaps,  not  an  inapt  rendering  of  the  word,  and  is 
certainly  more  euphonious  than  our  marginal  reading 
"  much  graced  ; "  but  when  they  make  the  "grace  "  an 
inherent,  and  not  a  derived  grace,  their  doctrine  slants 
off  from  all  Scripture,  and  is   opposed  to  all   reason. 
That  the  word  itself  gives  no  countenance  to  such  an 
enthronement  of  Mary,  is  evident,  for  St.  Paul  makes 
use  of  the  same  word  when  speaking  of  himself  and 
the  Ephesian  Christians  (Eph.  i.  6),  where  we  render  it 
"  His  grace,  which  He  freely  bestowed  on  us  in  the 
Beloved."     But  criticism   apart,   never  before  had    an 
angel  so  addressed  a  mortal,  for  even  Daniel's  "greatly 
beloved  "  falls  below  this    Nazareth   greeting.     When 
Gabriel  came  to  Zacharias  there  was  not  even  a  "  Hail ; " 
it  was  simply  a  "  Fear  not,"  and  then  the  message;  but 
now  he  gives  to  Mary  a  "  Hail "  and  two  beatitudes 
besides:  "  Thou  art  highly  favoured;"  "  the  Lord  is  with 


THE  VIRGIN  MOTHER.  57 

thee."  And  do  these  words  mean  nothing  ?  Are  they 
but  a  few  heavenly  courtesies  whose  only  meaning  is 
in  their  sound  ?  Heaven  does  not  speak  thus  with 
random,  unmeaning  words.  Its  voices  are  true,  and 
deep  as  they  are  true,  never  meaning  less,  but  often 
more  than  they  say.  That  the  angel  should  so  address 
her  is  certain  proof  that  the  Virgin  possessed  a  peculiar 
fitness  for  the  Divine  honours  she  was  now  to  receive — 
honours  which  had  been  so  long  held  back,  as  if  in 
reserve  for  herself  alone.  It  is  only  they  who  look 
heavenward  who  see  heavenly  things.  There  must  be  a 
heart  aflame  before  the  bush  burns  ;  and  when  the  bush 
is  alight  it  is  only  a  he  who  sees  takes  off  his  shoes." 

The  glimpses  we  get  of  the  Virgin  are  few  and 
brief ;  she  is  soon  eclipsed — if  we  may  be  allowed  that 
shadowy  word — by  the  greater  glories  of  her  Son ; 
but  why  should  she  be  selected  as  the  mother  of  the 
human  Christ  ?  why  should  her  life  nourish  His  ?  why 
should  the  thirty  years  be  spent  in  her  daily  presence, 
her  face  being  the  first  vision  of  awaking  consciousness, 
as  it  was  in  the  last  earthward  look  from  the  cross  ? — 
why  all  this,  except  that  there  was  a  wealth  of  beauty 
and  of  grace  sbout  her  nature,  a  certain  tinge  of 
heavenliness  that  made  it  fitting  the  Messiah  should 
be  born  of  her  rather  than  of  any  woman  else  ?  As 
we  have  seen,  the  royal  and  the  priestly  lines  meet  in 
her,  and  Mary  unites  in  herself  all  the  dignity  of  the 
one  with  the  sanctity  of  the  other.  With  what  delicacy 
and  grace  she  receives  the  angel's  message  !  "Greatly 
troubled  "  at  first — not,  however,  like  Zacharias,  at  the 
sight  of  the  messenger,  but  at  his  message — she  soon 
recovers  herself,  and  "  casts  in  her  mind  what  manner 
of  salutation  this  might  be."  This  sentence  just  de- 
scribes  one  prominent    feature  of  her   character,    her 


58  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

reflective,  reasoning  mind.  Sparing  of  words,  except 
when  under  the  inspiration  of  some  Magnificat,  she 
lived  much  within  herself.  She  loved  the  companion- 
ship of  her  own  thoughts,  finding  a  certain  music  in 
their  still  monologue.  When  the  shepherds  made  known 
the  saying  of  the  angel  about  this  child,  repeating  the 
angelic  song,  perhaps,  with  sundry  variations  of  their 
own,  Mary  is  neither  elated  nor  astonished.  Whatever 
her  feelings — and  they  must  have  been  profoundly 
moved — she  carefully  conceals  them.  Instead  of  telling 
out  her  own  deep  secrets,  letting  herself  drift  out  on  the 
ecstasies  of  the  moment,  Mary  is  silent,  serenely  quiet, 
unwilling  that  even  a  shadow  of  herself  should  dim  the 
brightness  of  His  rising.  "She  kept,"  so  we  read,  "all 
these  sayings,  pondering  them  in  her  heart ;  "  or  putting 
them  together,  as  the  Greek  word  means,  and  so  forming, 
as  in  a  mental  mosaic,  her  picture  of  the  Christ  who  was 
to  be.  And  so,  in  later  years,  we  read  (ii.  51)  how  "  His 
mother  kept  all  these  saying  in  her  heart,"  gathering 
up  the  fragmentary  sentences  of  the  Divine  Childhood 
and  Youth,  and  hiding  them,  as  a  treasure  peculiarly 
her  own,  in  the  deep,  still  chambers  of  her  soul.  And 
what  those  still  chambers  of  her  soul  were,  how  heavenly 
the  atmosphere  that  enswathed  them,  how  hallowed  by 
the  Divine  Presence,  her  Magnificat  will  show ;  for  that 
inspired  psalm  is  but  an  opened  window,  letting  the 
music  pass  without,  as  it  throws  the  light  within, 
showing  us  the  temple  of  a  quiet,  devout,  and  thoughtful 
soul. 

With  what  complacency  and  with  what  little  surprise 
she  received  the  angel's  message  I  The  Incarnation 
does  not  come  upon  her  as  a  new  thought,  a  thought 
for  which  her  mind  cannot  possibly  find  room,  and 
human  speech  can  weave  no  fitting  dress.     It  disturbs 


THE   VIRGIN  MOTHER.  59 

neither  her  reason  nor  her  faith.  Versed  in  Scripture 
as  she  is,  it  comes  rather  as  a  familiar  thought — a 
heavenly  dove,  it  is  true,  but  gliding  down  within  her 
mind  in  a  perfect,  because  a  heavenly  naturalness. 
And  when  the  angel  announces  that  the  "  Son  of  the 
Most  High,"  whose  name  shall  be  called  Jesus,  and 
who  shall  reign  over  the  house  of  Jacob  for  ever, 
shall  be  born  of  herself,  there  is  no  exclamation  of 
astonishment,  no  word  of  incredulity  as  to  whether 
this  can  be,  but  simply  a  question  as  to  the  manner 
of  its  accomplishment :  "  How  shall  this  be,  seeing  that 
I  know  not  a  man  ?  "  The  Christ  had  evidently  been 
conceived  in  her  mind,  and  cradled  in  her  heart,  even 
before  He  became  a  conception  of  her  womb. 

And  what  an  absolute  self-surrender  to  the  Divine 
purpose !  No  sooner  has  the  angel  told  her  that  the 
Holy  Ghost  shall  come  upon  her,  and  the  power  of 
the  Most  High  overshadow  her,  than  she  bows  to  the 
Supreme  Will  in  a  lowly,  reverential  acquiescence: 
"  Behold,  the  handmaid  [bondmaid]  of  the  Lord ;  be 
it  unto  me  according  to  thy  word."  So  do  the  human 
and  the  Divine  wills  meet  and  mingle.  Heaven 
touches  earth,  comes  down  into  it,  that  earth  may 
evermore  touch  heaven,  and  indeed  form  part  of  it 

The  angel  departs,  leaving  her  alone  with  her  great 
secret ;  and  little  by  little  it  dawns  upon  her,  as  it 
could  not  have  done  at  first,  what  this  secret  means 
for  her.  A  great  honour  it  is,  a  great  joy  it  will  be ; 
but  Mary  finds,  as  we  all  find,  the  path  to  heaven's 
glories  lies  through  suffering ;  the  way  into  the  wealthy 
place  is  "  through  the  fire."  How  can  she  carry  this 
great  secret  herself?  and  yet  how  can  she  tell  it? 
Who  will  believe  her  report?  Will  not  these  Naza- 
renes  laugh   at  her  story  of  the   vision,  except   that 


6o  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

the  matter  would  be  too  grave  for  a  smile  ?  It  is  her 
own  secret  yet,  but  it  cannot  be  a  secret  long ;  and 
then — who  can  defend  her,  and  ward  off  the  inevitable 
shame  ?  Where  can  she  find  shelter  from  the  venomed 
shafts  that  will  be  hurled  from  every  side — where,  save 
in  her  consciousness  of  unsullied  purity,  and  in  the 
"shadow  of  the  Highest"?  Was  it  thoughts  like 
these  that  now  agitated  her  mind,  deciding  her  to 
make  the  hasty  visit  to  Elisabeth  ?  or  was  it  that 
she  might  find  sympathy  and  counsel  in  communion 
with  a  kindred  soul,  one  that  age  had  made  wTise,  and 
grace  made  beautiful  ?  Probably  it  was  both ;  but  in 
this  journey  we  will  not  follow  her  now,  except  to  see 
how  her  faith  in  God  never  once  wavered.  We  have 
already  listened  to  her  sweet  song ;  but  what  a  sublime 
faith  it  shows,  that  she  can  sing  in  face  of  this  gather- 
ing storm,  a  storm  of  suspicion  and  of  shame,  when 
Joseph  himself  will  seek  to  put  her  away,  lest  his 
character  should  suffer  too !  But  Mary  believed,  even 
though  she  felt  and  smarted.  She  endured  "  as  seeing 
Him  who  is  invisible."  Could  she  not  safely  leave 
her  character  to  Him  ?  Would  not  the  Lord  avenge 
His  own  elect?  Would  not  Divine  Wisdom  justify 
her  child?  Faith  and  hope  said  "Yes;"  and  Mary's 
soul,  like  a  nightingale,  trilled  out  her  Magnificat  when 
earth's  light  was  disappearing,  and  the  shadows  were 
falling  thick  and  fast  on  every  side. 

It  is  on  her  return  to  Nazareth,  after  her  three 
months'  absence,  that  the  episode  occurs  narrated  by 
St.  Matthew.  It  is  thrown  into  the  story  almost  by 
way  of  parenthesis,  but  it  casts  a  vivid  light  on  the 
painful  experience  through  which  she  was  now  called 
to  pass.  Her  prolonged  absence,  most  unusual  for 
one  betrothed,  was  in  itself  puzzling ;  but  she  returns 


THE  VIRGIN  MOTHER.  61 


to   find    only   a    scant   welcome.      She   finds    herself 
suspected   of  shame   and   sin,   "the   white  flower   of 
her   blameless   life"   dashed   and    stained  with   black 
aspersions.     Even  Joseph's  confidence  in  her  is  shaken, 
so  shaken  that  he  must  put  her  away  and  have  the 
betrothal  cancelled.     And  so  the  clouds  darken  about 
the   Virgin;    she   is   left   almost   alone   in   the   sharp 
travail  of  her  soul,  charged  with  sin,  even  when  she 
is  preparing  for  the  world  a  Saviour,  and  likely,  un- 
less Heaven  speedily  interpose,  to  become  an  outcast, 
if  not  a  martyr,  thrown  outside  the  circle  of  human 
courtesies  and   sympathies  as   a   social   leper.      Like 
another   heir   of  all  the   promises,  she  too  is  led  as 
a  lamb  to  the  slaughter,  a  victim  bound,  and  all  but 
sacrificed,  upon  the  altar  of  the  public  conscience.     But 
Heaven  did  intervene,  even  as  it  stayed  the  knife  of 
Abraham.      An    angel   appears   to   Joseph,    throwing 
around   the   suspected   one   the   mantle    of    unsullied 
innocence,  and    assuring    him    that   her   explanation, 
though  passing  strange,  was  truth  itself.     And  so  the 
Lord  did  avenge  His  own   elect,  stilling   the   babble 
of  unfriendly  tongues,  restoring   to   her    all   the    lost 
confidences,  together  with   a  wealth  of  added   hopes 
and  prospective  honours. 

Not,  however,  out  of  Galilee  must  the  Shiloh  come, 
but  out  of  Judah ;  and  not  Nazareth,  but  Bethlehem 
Ephratah  is  the  designated  place  of  His  coming  forth 
who  shall  be  the  Governor  and  Shepherd  of  "  My  people 
Israel."  What  means,  then,  this  apparent  divergence 
of  the  Providence  from  the  Prophecy,  the  whole  drift 
of  the  one  being  northward,  while  the  other  points 
steadily  to  the  south?  It  is  only  a  seeming  diver- 
gence, the  backward  flash  of  the  wheel  that  all  the  time 
is  moving  steadily,  swiftly  forward.      The  Prophecy 


62  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

and  the  Providence  are  but  the  two  staves  of  the  ark, 
moving  in  different  but  parallel  lines,  and  bearing 
between  them  the  Divine  purpose.  Already  the  line 
is  laid  that  links  Nazareth  with  Bethlehem,  the  line  of 
descent  we  call  lineage;  and  now  we  see  Providence 
setting  in  motion  another  force,  the  Imperial  Will,  which, 
moving  along  this  line,  makes  the  purpose  a  realization. 
Nor  was  it  the  Imperial  Will  only ;  it  was  the  Imperial 
Will  acting  through  Jewish  prejudices.  These  two 
forces,  antagonistic,  if  not  opposite,  were  the  centrifugal 
and  centripetal  forces  that  kept  the  Divine  Purpose 
moving  in  its  appointed  round  and  keeping  Divine 
hours.  Had  the  registration  decreed  by  Caesar  been 
conducted  after  the  Roman  manner,  Joseph  and  Mary 
would  not  have  been  required  to  go  up  to  Bethlehem ; 
but  when,  out  of  deference  to  Jewish  prejudice,  the 
registration  was  made  in  the  Hebrew  mode,  this  com- 
pelled them,  both  being  descendants  of  David,  to  go 
up  to  their  ancestral  city.  It  has  been  thought  by 
some  that  Mary  possessed  some  inherited  property  in 
Bethlehem  ;  and  the  narrative  would  suggest  that  there 
were  other  links  that  bound  them  to  the  city;  for 
evidently  they  intended  to  make  Bethlehem  henceforth 
their  place  of  residence,  and  they  would  have  done  so 
had  not  a  Divine  monition  broken  in  upon  their  purpose 
(Matt.  ii.  23). 

And  so  they  move  southward,  obeying  the  mandate 
of  Caesar,  who  now  is  simply  the  executor  of  the 
higher  Will,  the  Will  that  moves  silently  but  surely, 
back  of  all  thrones,  principalities,  and  powers.  We 
will  not  attempt  to  gild  the  gold,  by  enlarging  upon 
the  story  of  the  Nativity,  and  so  robbing  it  of  its  sweet 
simplicity.  The  toilsome  journey ;  its  inhospitable 
ending ;  the  stable  and  the  manger ;  the  angelic  sym- 


THE   VIRGIN  MOTHER.  63 

phonies  in  the  distance ;  the  adoration  of  the  shepherds 
— all  form  one  sweet  idyll,  no  word  of  which  we  can 
spare;  and  as  the  Church  chants  her  Te  Deum 
all  down  the  ages  this  will  not  be  one  of  its  lowest 
strains : — 

"  When  Thou  tookest  upon  Thee  to  deliver  man 
Thou  didst  not  abhor  the  Virgin's  womb." 

And  so  the  Virgin  becomes  the  Virgin  Mother, 
graduating  into  motherhood  amid  the  acclamations  of 
the  sky,  and  borne  on  to  her  exalted  honours  in  the 
sweep  of  Imperial  decrees. 

After  the  Nativity  she  sinks  back  into  a  second — 
a  far-off  second — place,  for  "  the  greater  glory  doth 
dim  the  less ; "  and  twice  only  does  her  voice  break 
the  silence  of  the  thirty  years.  We  hear  it  first  in  the 
Temple,  as,  in  tones  tremulous  with  anxiety  and  sorrow, 
she  asks,  "Son,  why  hast  Thou  thus  dealt  with  us? 
Behold,  Thy  father  and  I  sought  Thee  sorrowing." 
The  whole  incident  is  perplexing,  and  if  we  read  it 
superficially,  not  staying  to  read  between  the  lines,  it 
certainly  places  the  mother  in  anything  but  a  favourable 
light.  Let  us  observe,  however,  that  there  was  no  neces- 
sity that  the  mother  should  have  made  this  pilgrimage, 
and  evidently  she  had  made  it  so  that  she  might  be  near 
her  precious  charge.  But  now  she  strangely  loses 
sight  of  Him,  and  goes  even  a  day's  journey  without 
discovering  her  loss.  How  is  this  ?  Has  she  suddenly 
grown  careless  ?  or  does  she  lose  both  herself  and  her 
charge  in  the  excitements  of  the  return  journey  ? 
Thoughtfulness,  as  we  have  seen,  was  a  characteristic 
feature  of  her  life.  Hers  was  u  the  harvest  of  the 
quiet  eye,"  and  her  thoughts  centred  not  on  herself, 
but  on  her  Divine  Son ;  He  was  her  Alpha  and  Omega, 


64  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

her  first,  her  last,  her  only  thought.  It  is  altogether 
outside  the  range  of  possibilities  that  she  now  could 
be  so  negligent  of  her  maternal  duties,  and  so  we  are 
compelled  to  seek  for  our  explanation  elsewhere.  May 
we  not  find  it  in  this  ?  The  parents  had  left  Jerusalem 
earlier  in  the  day,  arranging  for  the  child  Jesus  to 
follow  with  another  part  of  the  same  company,  which, 
leaving  later,  would  overtake  them  at  their  first  camp. 
But  Jesus  not  appearing  when  the  second  company 
starts,  they  imagine  that  He  has  gone  on  with  the 
first  company,  and  so  proceed  without  Him.  This 
seems  the  only  probable  solution  of  the  difficulty ;  at 
any  rate  it  makes  plain  and  perfectly  natural  what 
else  is  most  obscure  and  perplexing.  Mary's  mistake, 
however — and  it  was  not  her  fault — opens  to  us  a  page 
in  the  sealed  volume  of  the  Divine  Boyhood,  letting  us 
hear  its  solitary  voice — u  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be 
in  My  Father's  house  ?  " 

We  see  the  mother  again  at  Cana,  where  she  is  an 
invited  and  honoured  guest  at  the  marriage,  moving 
about  among  the  servants  with  a  certain  quiet  authority, 
and  telling  her  Divine  Son  of  the  breakdown  in  the 
hospitalities  :  u  They  have  no  wine."  We  cannot  now 
go  into  details,  but  evidently  there  was  no  distancing 
reserve  between  the  mother  and  her  Son.  She  goes 
to  Him  naturally ;  she  speaks  to  Him  freely  and 
frankly,  as  any  widow  would  speak  to  the  son  on 
whom  she  leaned.  Nay,  she  seems  to  know,  as  by  a 
sort  of  intuition,  of  the  superhuman  powers  that  ars 
lying  dormant  in  that  quiet  Son  of  hers,  and  she  so 
correctly  reads  the  horoscope  of  Heaven  as  to  expect 
this  will  be  the  hour  and  the  place  of  their  manifesta- 
tion. Perhaps  her  mind  did  not  grasp  the  true  Divinity 
of  her  Son — indeed,  it  could  not  have  done  so  before 


THE   VIRGIN  MOTHER. 


the  Resurrection — but  that  He  is  the  Messiah  she  has 
no  doubt,  and  so,  strong  in  her  confidence,  she  says  to 
the  servants,  "  Whatsoever  He  saith  unto  you,  do  it." 
And  her  faith  must  have  been  great  indeed,  when  it 
required  a  "  whatsoever "  to  measure  it.  Some  have 
thought  they  could  detect  a  tinge  of  impatience  and  a 
tone  of  rebuke  in  the  reply  of  Jesus;  and  doubtless 
there  is  a  little  sharpness  in  our  English  rendering  of 
it.  It  does  sound  to  our  ears  somewhat  unMlial  and 
harsh.  But  to  the  Greeks  the  address  "  Woman  "  was 
both  courteous  and  respectful,  and  Jesus  Himself  uses 
it  in  that  last  tender  salute  from  the  cross.  Certainly, 
she  did  not  take  it  as  a  rebuke,  for  one  harsh  word, 
like  the  touch  on  the  sensitive  plant,  would  have  thrown 
her  back  into  silence;  whereas  she  goes  of!  directly  to 
the  servants  with  her  "whatsoever." 

We  get  one  more  brief  glimpse  of  her  at  Capernaum, 
as  she  and  her  other  sons  come  out  to  Jesus  to  urge 
Him  to  desist  from  His  long  speaking.  It  is  but  a 
simple  narrative,  but  it  serves  to  throw  a  side-light  on 
that  home-life  now  removed  to  Capernaum.  It  shows 
us  the  thoughtful,  loving  mother,  as,  forgetful  of  herself 
and  full  of  solicitude  for  Him,  who,  she  fears,  will  tax 
Himself  beyond  His  strength,  she  comes  out  to  per- 
suade  Him  home.  But  what  is  the  meaning  of  that 
strange  answer,  and  the  significant  gesture  ?  "  Mother," 
"  brethren"  ?  It  is  as  if  Jesus  did  not  understand  the 
words.  They  are  something  He  has  now  outgrown, 
something  He  must  now  lay  aside,  as  He  gives  Himself 
to  the  world  at  large.  As  there  comes  a  time  in  the 
life  of  each  when  the  mother  is  forsaken — left,  that  he 
may  follow  a  higher  call,  and  be  himself  a  man — so 
Jesus  now  steps  cut  into  a  world  where  Marv's  heart, 
indeed,  may  still  follow,  but  a  wcrld  her  mind  may  not 

5 


66  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

enter.  The  earthly  relation  is  henceforth  to  be  over- 
shadowed by  the  heavenly.  The  Son  of  Mary  grows 
into  the  Son  of  man,  belonging  now  to  no  special  cne, 
but  to  humanity  at  large,  finding  in  all,  even  in  us, 
who  do  the  will  of  the  Father  in  heaven,  a  brother,  a 
sister,  a  mother.  Not  that  Jesus  forgets  her.  Oh,  no  ! 
Even  amid  the  agonies  of  the  cross  He  thinks  of  her ; 
He  singles  her  out  among  the  crowd,  bespeaking  for 
her  a  place — the  place  He  Himself  has  filled — in  the 
heart  of  His  nearest  earthly  friend ;  and  amid  the 
prayer  for  His  murderers,  and  the  "  Eloi,  Eloi  "  of  a 
terrible  forsaking,  He  says  to  the  Apostle  of  love, 
"  Behold  thy  mother/'  and  to  her,  "  Behold  thy  son." 

And  so  the  Virgin  Mother  takes  her  place  in  the 
focal  point  of  all  the  histories.  Through  no  choice, 
no  conceit  or  forwardness  of  her  own,  but  by  the  grace 
qf  God  and  by  an  inherent  fitness,  she  becomes 
the  connecting-link  between  earth  and  heaven.  And 
throwing,  as  she  does,  her  unconscious  shadow  back 
within  the  Paradise  Lost,  and  forward  through  the 
Gospels  to  the  Paradise  Regained,  shall  we  not  "  mag- 
nify the  Lord  "  with  her  ?  shall  we  not  "  magnify  the 
Lord"  for  her,  as,  with  all  the  generations,  wTe  "call 
her  blessed"? 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE  ADORATION  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS. 
Luke  ii.  8-21. 

THE  Gospel  of  St.  Mark  omits  entirely  the  Nativity, 
passing  at  once  to  the  words  and  miracles  of  His 
public  ministry.  St.  John,  too,  dismisses  the  Advent 
and  the  earlier  years  of  the  Divine  Life  with  one 
solitary  phrase,  how  the  Word,  which  in  the  beginning 
was  with  God  and  was  God,  "  became  flesh  and  dwelt 
among  us  "  (i.  14).  St.  Luke,  however,  whose  Gospel 
is  the  Gospel  of  the  Humanity,  lingers  reverently  over 
the  Nativity,  throwing  a  variety  of  side-lights  upon  the 
cradle  of  the  Holy  Child.  Already  has  he  shown  how 
the  Roman  State  prepared  the  cradle  of  the  Infancy, 
and  how  Caesar  Augustus  unconsciously  wrought  out 
the  purpose  of  God,  the  breath  of  his  imperial  decree 
being  but  part  of  a  higher  inspiration;  and  now  he 
proceeds  to  show  how  the  shepherds  of  Judaea  bring  the 
greetings  of  the  Hebrew  world,  the  wave-sheaf  of  the 
ripening  harvests  of  homage  which  yet  will  be  laid,  by 
Jew  and  Gentile  alike,  at  the  feet  of  Him  who  was  Son 
of  David  and  Son  of  man. 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  these  anonymous 
shepherds  were  residents  of  Bethlehem,  and  tradition 
has  fixed  the  exact  spot  where  they  were  favoured  with 
this  Advent  Apocalypse,  about  a  thousand  paces   from 


68  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

the  modern  village.  It  is  a  historic  fact  that  there  was 
a  tower  near  that  site,  called  Eder,  or  "  the  Tower  of 
the  Flock/'  around  which  were  pastured  the  flocks 
destined  for  the  Temple  sacrifice ;  but  the  topography 
of  ver.  8  is  purposely  vague.  The  expression  "  in  that 
same  country,"  written  by  one  who  both  in  years  and 
in  distance  was  far  removed  from  the  events  recorded, 
would  describe  any  circle  within  the  radius  of  a  few 
miles  from  Bethlehem  as  its  centre,  and  the  very 
vagueness  of  the  expression  seems  to  push  back  the 
scene  of  the  Advent  music  to  a  farther  distance  than 
a  thousand  paces.  And  this  view  is  confirmed  by  the 
language  of  the  shepherds  themselves,  who,  when  the 
vision  has  faded,  say  one  to  another,  "  Let  us  now  go 
even  unto  Bethlehem,  and  see  this  thing  that  is  come  to 
pass  ; "  for  they  scarcely  would  have  needed,  or  used, 
the  adverbial  u  even  "  were  they  keeping  their  flocks  so 
close  up  to  the  walls  of  the  city.  We  may  therefore 
infer,  with  some  amount  of  probability,  that  whether 
the  shepherds  were  residents  of  Bethlehem  or  not, 
when  they  kept  watch  over  their  flocks,  it  was  not  on 
the  traditional  site,  but  farther  away  over  the  hills. 
Indeed,  it  is  difficult,  and  very  often  impossible,  for  us 
to  fix  the  precise  locality  of  these  sacred  scenes,  these 
bright  points  of  intersection,  where  Heaven's  glories 
flash  out  against  the  dull  carbon-points  of  earth ;  and 
the  voices  of  tradition  are  at  best  but  doubtful  guesses. 
It  would  almost  seem  as  if  God  Himself  had  wiped  out 
these  memories,  hiding  them  away,  as  He  hid  the 
sepulchre  of  Moses,  lest  the  world  should  pay  them  too 
great  a  homage,  and  lest  we  might  think  that  one 
place  lay  nearer  to  heaven  than  another,  when  all 
places  are  equally  distant,  or  rather  equally  near.  It 
is  enough  to  know  that  somewhere  on  these  lonely  hills 


a. 8-21.]  THE  ADORATION  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS.         69 

came  the  vision  of  the  angels,  perhaps  on  the  very 
spot  where  David  was  minding  his  sheep  when 
Heaven  summoned  him  to  a  higher  task,  passing  him 
up  among  the  kings. 

While  the  shepherds  were  "  watching  the  watches  of 
the  night  over  their  flock,"  as  the  Evangelist  expresses 
it,  referring  to  the  pastoral  custom  of  dividing  the  night 
into  watches,  and  keeping  watch  by  turns,  suddenly 
"  an  angel  of  the  Lord  stood  by  them,  and  the  glory  of 
the  Lord  shone  round  about  them."  When  the  angel 
appeared  to  Zacharias,  and  when  Gabriel  brought  to 
Mary  her  evangel,  we  do  not  read  of  any  supernatural 
portent,  any  celestial  glory,  attending  them.  Possibly 
because  their  appearances  were  in  the  broad  daylight, 
when  the  glory  would  be  masked,  invisible ;  but  now, 
in  the  dead  of  night,  the  angelic  form  is  bright  and 
luminous,  throwing  all  around  them  a  sort  of  heavenly 
halo,  in  which  even  the  lustrous  Syrian  stars  grow 
dim.  Dazzled  by  the  sudden  burst  of  glory,  the 
shepherds  were  awed  by  the  vision,  and  stricken  with 
a  great  fear,  until  the  angel,  borrowing  the  tones  and 
accents  of  their  own  speech,  addressed  to  them  his 
message,  the  message  he  had  been  commissioned  to 
bring :  "  Be  not  afraid  ;  for  behold,  I  bring  you  good 
tidings  of  great  joy  which  shall  be  to  all  the  people  :  for 
there  is  born  to  you  this  day  in  the  city  of  David  a 
Saviour,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord."  And  then  he  gave 
them  a  sign  by  which  they  might  recognize  the  Saviour 
Lord :  u  Ye  shall  find  a  babe  wrapped  in  swaddling 
clothes,  and  lying  in  a  manger." 

From  the  indefinite  wording  of  the  narrative  we 
should  infer  that  the  angel  who  brought  the  message  to 
the  shepherds  was  not  Gabriel,  who  had  before  brought 
the  good   tidings  to  Mary.     But  whether  or  not    the 


70  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

messenger  was  the  same,  the  two  messages  are  almost 
identical  in  structure  and  in  thought,  the  only  difference 
being  the  personal  element  of  the  equation,  and  the 
shifting  of  the  time  from  the  future  to  the  present  tense. 
Both  strike  the  same  key-note,  the  "  Fear  not "  with 
which  they  seek  to  still  the  vibrations  of  the  heart,  that 
the  Virgin  and  the  shepherds  may  not  have  their  vision 
blurred  and  tremulous  through  the  agitation  of  the  mind. 
Both  make  ment:on  of  the  name  of  David,  which  name 
was  the  key-word  which  unlocked  all  Messianic  hopes. 
Both  speak  of  the  Child  as  a  Saviour— though  Gabriel 
wraps  up  the  title  within  the  name,  "Thou  shalt  call 
His  name  Jesus;"  for,  as  St  Matthew  explains  it,  "it 
is  He  that  shall  save  His  people  from  their  sins."  Both, 
too,  speak  of  Him  as  the  Messiah ;  for  when  the  angel 
now  calls  Him  the  "  Christ  "  it  was  the  same  "  Anointed" 
one  who,  as  Gabriel  had  said,  "  should  reign  over  the 
house  of  Jacob  for  ever  ; "  while  in  the  last  august  title 
now  given  by  the  angel,  "  Lord,"  we  may  recognize  the 
higher  Divinity — that  He  is,  in  some  unique,  and  to  us 
incomprehensible  sense,  "  the  Son  of  the  Most  High  " 
(i.  32).  Such,  then,  is  the  triple  crown  the  angel  now 
bears  to  the  cradle  of  the  Holy  Child.  What  He  will 
be  to  the  world  is  still  but  a  prophecy ;  but  as  He,  the 
Firstborn,  is  now  brought  into  the  world,  God  commands 
all  the  angels  to  worship  Him  (Heb.  i.  6) ;  and  with 
united  voice — though  the  antiphon  sings  back  over  a 
nine  months'  silence — they  salute  the  Child  of  Bethlehem 
as  Saviour,  Messiah,  Lord.  The  one  title  sets  up  His 
throne  facing  the  lower  world,  commanding  the  powers 
of  darkness,  and  looking  at  the  moral  conditions  of  men; 
the  second  throws  the  shadow'  of  His  throne  over  the 
political  relations  of  men,  making  it  dominate  all  thrones ; 
while  the  third    title   sets  up   His   throne  facing  the 


ii.S-2i.]     THE  ADORATION  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS.         71 

heavens  themselves,  vesting  Him  with  a  supreme,  a 
Divine  authority. 

No  sooner  was  the  message  ended  than  suddenly 
there  was  with  the  angel  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly 
host,  praising  God  and  saying — 

"Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 
And  on  earth  peace  among  men  in  whom  He  is  well  pleased." 

The  Revised  Version  lacks  the  rhythmic  qualities  of 
the  Authorized  Version  ;  and  the  wordy  clause  "  among 
men  in  whom  He  is  well  pleased"  seems  but  a  poor 
substitute  for  the  terse  and  clear  "good-will  toward 
men,"  which  is  an  expression  easy  of  utterance,  and 
which  seemed  to  have  earned  a  prescriptive  right  to  a 
place  in  our  Advent  music.  The  revised  rendering, 
however,  is  certainly  more  in  accord  with  the  gram- 
matical construction  of  the  original,  whose  idiomatic 
form  can  scarcely  be  put  into  English,  except  in  a  way 
somewhat  circuitous  and  involved.  In  both  expressions 
the  underlying  thought  is  the  same,  representing  man 
as  the  object  of  the  Divine  good-pleasure,  that  Divine 
"benevolence" — using  the  word  in  its  etymological 
sense — which  enfolds,  in  the  germ,  the  Divine  favour, 
compassion,  mere}',  and  love.  There  is  thus  a  triple 
parallelism  running  through  the  song,  the  "Glory  to 
God  in  the  highest"  finding  its  corresponding  terms  in 
the  "peace  among  (or  to)  men  in  whom  He  is  well 
pleased  on  earth ; "  while  altogether  it  forms  one  com- 
plete circle  of  praise,  the  "  good-pleasure  to  man,"  the 
"peace  on  earth,"  the  "glory  to  God"  marking  off  its 
three  segments.  And  so  the  song  harmonizes  with  the 
message ;  indeed,  it  is  that  message  in  an  altered  shape ; 
no  longer  walking  in  common  prosaic  ways,  but  winged 
now,  it  moves  in  its  higher  circles  with  measured  beat, 


7*  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

leaving  a  path  from  the  cradle  of  the  Infancy  to  the 
highest  heavens  all  strewn  with  Glorias.  And  what  is 
the  triplicity  of  the  song  but  another  rendering  of  the 
three  august  titles  of  the  message — Saviour,  Messiah, 
Lord  ?  the  "  Saviour"  being  the  expression  of  the  Divine 
good-pleasure ;  the  "  Messiah  "  telling  of  His  reign  upon 
earth  who  is  Himself  the  Prince  of  peace;  while  the 
"Lord,"  which,  as  we  have  seen,  corresponds  with 
"  the  Son  of  the  Most  High,"  leads  us  up  directly  to 
the  "heavenlies,"  to  Him  who  commands  and  who 
deserves  all  doxologies. 

But  is  this  song  only  a  song  in  some  far-distant  sky — 
a  sweet  memory  indeed,  but  no  experience  ?  Is  it  not 
rather  the  original  from  which  copies  may  be  struck  for 
our  individual  lives  ?  There  is  for  each  of  us  an  advent, 
if  we  will  accept  it ;  for  what  is  regeneration  but  the 
beginning  of  the  Divine  life  within  our  life,  the  advent 
of  the  Christ  Himself?  And  let  but  that  supreme  hour 
come  to  us  when  place  and  room  are  made  for  Him 
who  is  at  once  the  expression  of  the  Divine  favour  and 
the  incarnation  of  the  Divine  love,  and  the  new  era 
dawns,  the  reign  of  peace,  the  "  peace  of  God,"  because 
the  "peace  with  God,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'' 
Then  will  the  heart  throw  off  its  Glorias,  not  in  one 
burst  of  song,  which  subsides  quickly  into  silence,  but 
in  one  perpetual  anthem,  which  ever  becomes  more  loud 
and  sweet  as  the  day  of  its  perfected  redemption  draweth 
nigh ;  for  when  the  Divine  displeasure  is  turned  away, 
and  a  Divine  peace  or  comfort  takes  its  place,  who  can 
but  say,  "  O  Lord,  I  will  praise  Thee  "  ? 

Directly  the  angel-song  had  ceased,  and  the  singers 
had  disappeared  in  the  deep  silence  whence  they  came, 
the  shepherds,  gathering  up  their  scattered  thought?, 
said  one  to  another  (as  if  their  hearts  were  speaking  all 


ii. 8-21.]     THE  ADORATION  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS.         73 

at  once  and  all  in  unison),  "Let  us  now  go  even  unto 
Bethlehem,  and  see  this  thing  that  is  come  to  pass 
which  the  Lord  hath  made  known  unto  us."  The 
response  was  immediate.  They  do  not  shut  out  this 
heavenly  truth  by  doubt  and  vain  questioning;  they 
do  not  keep  it  at  a  distance  from  them,  as  if  it  only 
indirectly  and  distantly  concerned  themselves,  but  yield 
themselves  up  to  it  entirely;  and  as  they  go  hastily  to 
Bethlehem,  in  the  quick  step  and  in  the  rapid  beating 
of  their  heart,  we  can  trace  the  vibrations  of  the  angel- 
song.  And  why  is  this  ?  Why  is  it  that  the  message 
does  not  come  upon  them  as  a  surprise?  Why  are 
these  men  ready  with  such  a  perfect  acquiescence, 
their  hearts  leaping  forward  to  meet  and  embrace  this 
Gospel  of  the  angels  ?  We  shall  probably  find  our 
answer  in  the  character  of  the  men  themselves.  They 
pass  into  history  unnamed ;  and  after  playing  their 
brief  part,  they  disappear,  lost  in  the  incense-cloud  of 
their  own  praises.  But  evidently  these  shepherds  were 
no  mean,  no  common  men.  They  were  Hebrews,  pos- 
sibly of  the  royal  line ;  at  any  rate  they  were  Davids 
in  their  loftiness  of  thought,  of  hope  and  aspiration. 
They  were  devout,  God-fearing  men.  Like  their  father 
Jacob,  they  too  were  citizens  of  two  worlds ;  they 
could  lead  their  flocks  into  green  pastures,  and  mend 
the  fold  ;  or  they  could  turn  aside  from  flock  and  fold 
to  wrestle  with  God's  angels,  and  prevail.  Heaven's 
revelations  come  to  noble  minds,  as  the  loftiest  peaks 
are  always  the  first  to  hail  the  dawn.  And  can  we 
suppose  that  Heaven  would  so  honour  them,  lighting 
up  the  sky  with  an  aureole  of  glory  for  their  sole 
benefit,  sending  this  multitude  to  sing  to  them  a  sweet 
chorale,  if  the  men  themselves  had  nothing  heavenly 
about  them,  if  their  selfish,  sordid  mind  could  soar  no 


74  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

higher  than  their  flocks,  and  have  no  wider  range  than 
the  markets  for  their  wool  ? 

"  Let  but  a  flute 
Play  'neath  the  fine-mixed  metal ; 
Then  shall  the  huge  bell  tremble,  then  the  mass 
With  myriad  waves  concurrent  shall  respond 
In  low,  soft  unison." 

But  there  must  be  the  music  hidden  within,  or  there 
is  no  unison.  And  we  may  be  sure  of  this,  that  the 
angel-song  had  passed  by  them  as  a  cold  night-wind, 
had  not  their  hearts  been  tuned  up  by  intense  desire, 
until  they  struck  responsive  to  the  angel-voice.  Though 
they  knew  it  not,  they  had  led  their  flock  to  the  mount 
of  God ;  and  up  the  steps  of  sacred  hopes  and  lofty 
aspirations  they  had  climbed,  until  their  lives  had  got 
within  the  circle  of  heavenly  harmonies,  and  they  were 
worthy  to  be  the  first  apostles  of  the  New  Dispensa- 
tion. 

In  our  earthly  modes  of  thinking  we  push  the  sacred 
and  the  secular  far  apart,  as  if  they  were  two  different 
worlds,  or,  at  any  rate,  as  opposite  hemispheres  of  the 
same  world,  with  but  few  points  of  contact  between 
them.  It  is  not  so.  The  secular  is  the  sacred  on  its 
under,  its  earthward  side.  It  is  a  part  of  that  great 
whole  we  call  duty,  and  in  our  earthly  callings,  if  they 
are  but  pure  and  honest,  we  may  hear  the  echoes  of  a 
heavenly  call.  The  temple  of  Worship  and  the  temple 
of  Work  are  not  separated  by  indefinable  spaces ;  they 
are  contiguous,  leaning  upon  each  other,  while  they 
both  front  the  same  Divine  purpose.  Nor  can  it  be 
simply  a  coincidence  that  Heaven's  revelations  should 
nearly  always  come  to  man  in  the  moments  of  earthly 
toil,  rather  than  in  the  hours  of  leisure  or  of  so-called 
worship.     It   was  from    his   shepherding  the  burning 


ii. 8-21.]     THE  ADORATION  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS.         75 

bush  beckoned  Moses  aside  ;  while  Heaven's  messenger 
found  Gideon  on  the  threshing-floor,  and  Elisha  in  the 
furrow.  In  the  New  Testament,  too,  in  all  the  cases 
whose  circumstances  are  recorded,  the  Divine  call 
reached  the  disciples  when  engaged  in  their  every-day 
task,  sitting  at  the  receipt  of  custom,  and  casting  or 
mending  their  nets.  The  fact  is  significant.  In  the 
estimate  of  Heaven,  instead  of  a  discount  being  put  upon 
the  common  tasks  of  life,  those  tasks  are  dignified  and 
ennobled.  They  look  towards  heaven,  and  if  the  heart 
be  only  set  in  that  direction  they  lead  too  up  towards 
heaven.  Our  weeks  are  not  unlike  the  sheet  of  Peter's 
vision ;  we  take  care  to  tie  up  the  two  ends,  attaching 
them  to  heaven,  and  then  we  leave  what  we  call  the 
"  week-days  "  bulging  down  earthward  in  purely  secular 
fashion.  But  would  not  our  weeks,  and  our  whole  life, 
swing  on  a  higher  and  holier  level,  could  we  but  recog- 
nize the  fact  that  all  days  are  the  Lord's  days,  and 
did  we  but  attach  each  day  and  each  deed  to  heaven? 
Such  is  the  truest,  noblest  life,  that  takes  the  "  trivial 
rounds  "  as  a  part  of  its  sacred  duties,  doing  them  all 
as  unto  the  Lord.  So,  as  we  sanctify  life's  common 
things,  they  cease  to  be  common,  and  the  earthly 
becomes  less  earthly  as  we  learn  to  see  more  of  heaven 
in  it.  In  the  weaving  of  our  life  some  of  its  inreads 
stretch  earthward,  and  some  heavenward ;  but  they 
cross  and  interlace,  and  together  they  form  the  warp 
and  woof  of  one  fabric,  which  should  be,  like  the  gar- 
ment of  the  Master,  without  seam,  woven  from  the  top 
throughout.  Happy  is  that  life  which,  keeping  an  open 
eye  over  the  flock,  keeps  too  a  heart  open  towards 
heaven,  ready  to  listen  to  the  angelic  music,  and  ready 
to  transfer  its  rhythm  to  their  own  hastening  feet  or 
their  praising  lips. 


76  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

Our  Evangelist  tells  us  that  they  "came  in  haste" 
in  search  of  the  young  Child,  and  we  may  almost  detect 
that  haste  in  the  very  accents  of  their  speech.  It  is, 
"  Let  us  now  go  across  even  to  Bethlehem/'  allowing 
the  prefix  its  proper  meaning ;  as  if  their  eager  hearts 
could  not  stay  to  go  round  by  the  ordinary  road,  but 
like  bees  scenting  a  field  of  clover,  they  too  must  make 
their  cross-country  way  to  Bethlehem.  Though  the 
angel  had  not  given  explicit  directions,  the  city  of 
David  was  not  so  large  but  that  they  could  easily  dis- 
cover the  object  of  their  search — the  Child,  as  had  been 
told  them,  wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes  and  lying  in 
a  manager.  It  has  been  thought  by  some  that  the 
"  inn  "  is  a  mistranslation,  and  that  it  really  was  the 
" guest-chamber"  of  some  friend.  It  is  true  the  word 
is  rendered  "  guest-chamber  "  on  the  other  two  occasions 
of  its  use  (Mark  xiv.  14;  Luke  xxii.  11),  but  it  also 
signified  a  public  guest-house,  as  well  as  a  private 
guest-chamber;  and  such  evidently  is  its  meaning  here, 
for  private  hospitality,  even  had  its  "  guest-chamber  " 
been  preoccupied,  would  certainly,  under  the  circum- 
stances, have  offered  something  more  human  than  a 
stable.     That  would  not  have  been  its  only  alternative. 

It  is  an  interesting  coincidence,  and  one  serving  to 
link  together  the  Old  and  the  New  Testament,  that 
Jeremiah  speaks  of  a  certain  geruth,  or  inn,  as  it  may 
read,  "  which  is  by  Beth-lehem  "  (Jer.  xli.  17).  How 
it  came  into  the  possession  of  Chimham,  who  was  a 
Gileadite,  we  are  not  told ;  but  we  are  told  that  be- 
cause of  the  kindness  shown  to  David  in  his  exile  by 
Barzillai,  his  son  Chimham  received  special  marks  of 
the  royal  favour,  and  was,  in  fact,  treated  almost  as  an 
adopted  son  (1  Kings  ii.  7).  What  is  certain  is  that 
the  khan   of  Bethlehem  bore,   for  successive  genera- 


ii.8-21.]     THE  ADORATION  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS.         77 

tions,  the  name  of  Chimham ;  which  fact  is  in  itself 
evidence  that  Chimham  was  its  builder,  as  the  well  of 
Jacob  retained,  through  all  the  changes  of  inheritance, 
the  name  of  the  patriarch  whose  thought  and  gift  it 
was.  In  all  probability,  therefore,  the  "  inn  "  was  built 
by  Chimham,  on  that  part  of  the  paternal  estate  which 
David  inherited  ;  and  as  the  khans  of  the  East  cling 
with  remarkable  tenacity  to  their  original  sites,  it  is 
probable,  to  say  the  least,  that  the  u  inn  of  Chimham  " 
and  the  inn  of  Bethlehem,  in  which  there  was  no  room 
for  the  two  late-comers  from  Nazareth,  were,  if  not 
identical,  at  any  rate  related  structures — so  strangely 
does  the  cycle  of  history  complete  itself,  and  the  Old 
merge  into  the  New.  And  so,  while  Prophecy  sings 
audibly  and  sweetly  of  the  place  which  yet  shall  give 
birth  to  the  Governor  who  shall  rule  over  Israel, 
History  puts  up  her  silent  hand,  and  salutes  Beth-lehem 
Ephratah  as  by  no  means  the  least  among  the  cities  of 
Judah. 

But  not  in  the  inn  do  the  shepherds  find  the  happy 
parents — the  spring-tide  of  the  unusual  immigration 
had  completely  flooded  that,  leaving  no  standing-place 
for  the  son  and  daughter  of  David — but  they  find 
them  in  a  stable,  probably  in  some  adjoining  cave, 
the  swaddled  Child,  as  the  angels  had  foretold,  lying 
in  the  manger.  Art  has  lingered  reverently  and  long 
over  this  stable  scene,  hiding  with  exquisite  draperies 
its  baldness  and  meanness,  and  lighting  up  its  darkness 
with  wreaths  of  golden  glory;  but  these  splendours 
are  apocryphal,  existing  only  in  the  mind  of  the  be- 
holder; they  are  the  luminous  mist  of  an  adoring 
love.  What  the  shepherds  do  find  is  an  extemporized 
apartment,  mean  in  the  extreme ;  two  strangers  fresh 
from   Nazareth,  both   young  and   both   poor;   and  a 


78  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

new-born  infant  asleep  in  the  manger,  with  a  group 
of  sympathizing  spectators,  who  have  brought,  in  the 
emergency,  all  kinds  of  proffered  helps.  It  seems  a 
strange  ending  for  an  angel-song,  a  far  drop  from  the 
superhuman  to  the  subhuman.  Will  it  shake  the  faith 
of  these  apostle-shepherds  ?  Will  it  shatter  their 
bright  hope  ?  And  chagrined  that  their  auroral  dream 
should  have  so  poor  a  realization,  will  they  return  to 
their  flocks  with  heavy  hearts  and  sad  ?  Not  they. 
They  prostrate  themselves  before  the  Infant  Presence, 
repeating  over  and  over  the  heavenly  words  the  angels 
had  spoken  unto  them  concerning  the  Child,  and  while 
Mary  announces  the  name  as  "Jesus,"  they  salute 
Him,  as  the  angels  had  greeted  Him  before,  as  Saviour, 
Messiah,  Lord  ;  thus  putting  on  the  head  of  the  Child 
Jesus  that  triple  crown,  symbol  of  a  supremacy  which 
knows  no  limit  either  in  space  or  time.  It  was  the 
Te  Deum  of  a  redeemed  humanity,  which  succeeding 
years  have  only  made  more  deep,  more  full,  and  which 
in  ever-rising  tones  will  yet  grow  into  the  Alleluias 
of  the  heavens.  Saviour,  Messiah,  Lord  !  these  titles 
struck  upon  Mary's  ear  not  with  surprise,  for  she  has 
grown  accustomed  to  surprises  now,  but  with  a  thrill 
of  wonder.  She  could  not  yet  spell  out  ah1  their 
deep  meaning,  and  so  she  pondered  "them  in  her 
heart,"  hiding  them  away  in  her  maternal  soul,  that 
their  deep  secrets  might  ripen  and  blossom  in  the 
summer  of  the  after-years. 

The  shepherds  appear  no  more  in  the  Gospel  story. 
We  see  them  returning  to  their  task  "glorifying  and 
praising  God  for  all  the  things  that  they  had  heard 
and  seen,"  and  then  the  mantle  of  a  deep  silence  falls 
upon  them.  As  a  lark,  rising  heavenward,  loses  itself 
from  our  sight,  becoming  a  sweet  song  in  the  sky,  so 


ii  8-21.]     THE  ADORATION  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS.         79 

these  anonymous  shepherds,  these  first  disciples  of 
the  Lord,  having  laid  their  tribute  at  His  feet — in  the 
name  of  humanity  saluting  the  Christ  who  was  to 
be — now  pass  out  of  our  sight,  leaving  for  us  the 
example  of  their  heavenward  look  and  their  simple 
faith,  and  leaving,  too,  their  Glorias,  which  in  multi- 
plied reverberations  fill  all  lands  and  all  times,  the 
earthly  prelude  of  tne  New,  the  eternal  Song. 


CHAPTER   VL 

THE  VOICE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

WHEN  the  Old  Testament  closed,  prophecy  had 
thrown  upon  the  screen  of  the  future  the 
shadows  of  two  persons,  cast  in  heavenly  light. 
Sketched  in  outline  rather  than  in  detail,  still  their 
personalities  were  sufficiently  distinct  as  to  attract  the 
gaze  and  hopes  of  the  intervening  centuries ;  while 
their  differing,  though  related  missions  were  clearly 
recognized.  One  was  the  Coming  One,  who  should 
bring  the  "consolation"  of  Israel,  and  who  should 
Himself  be  that  Consolation ;  and  gathering  into  one 
august  title  all  such  glittering  epithets  as  Star,  Shiloh, 
and  Emmanuel,  prophecy  reverently  saluted  Him  as 
"  the  Lord,"  paying  Him  prospective  homage  and 
adoration.  The  other  was  to  be  the  herald  of  another 
Dispensation,  proclaiming  the  new  kingdom  and  the 
new  King,  running  before  the  royal  chariot,  even  as 
Elijah  ran  before  Ahab  to  the  ivory  palace  at  Jezreel, 
his  voice  then  dying  away  in  silence,  as  he  himself 
passes  cut  of  sight  behind  the  throne.  Such  were 
the  two  figures  that  prophecy,  in  a  series  of  dissolving 
views,  had  thrown  forward  from  the  Old  into  the  New 
Testament ;  and  such  was  the  signal  honour  accorded 
to  the  Baptist,  that  while  many  of  the  Old  Testament 
characters  appear   as  reflections  in    the   New,  his   is 


THE   VOICE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  81 

the  only  human  shadow  thrown  back  from  the  New 
into  the  Old. 

The  forerunner  thus  had  a  virtual  existence  long 
before  the  time  of  the  Advent.  Known  by  his 
synonym  of  Elias,  the  prophesied,  he  became  as  a  real 
presence,  moving  here  and  there  among  their  thoughts 
and  dreams,  and  lighting  up  their  long  night  with 
the  beacon-fires  of  new  and  bright  hopes.  His  voice 
seemed  familiar,  even  though  it  came  to  them  in  far- 
distant  echoes,  and  the  listening  centuries  had  caught 
exactly  both  its  accent  and  its  message.  And  so  the 
preparer  of  the  way  found  his  own  path  prepared; 
for  John's  path  and  u  the  way  of  the  Lord  "  were  the 
same;  it  was  the  way  of  obedience  and  of  sacrifice. 
The  two  lives  were  thus  thrown  into  conjunction  from 
the  first,  the  lesser  light  revolving  around  the  Greater, 
as  they  fulfil  their  separate  courses — separate  indeed, 
as  far  as  the  human  must  ever  be  separated  from  the 
Divine,  yet  most  closely  related. 

Living  thus  through  the  pre-Advent  centuries,  both 
in  the  Divine  purpose  and  in  the  thoughts  and  hopes 
of  men,  so  early  designated  to  his  heraldic  office, 
"  My  messenger,"  in  a  singular  sense,  as  no  other  of 
mortals  could  ever  be,  it  is  no  matter  of  apology,  or 
even  of  surprise,  that  his  birth  should  be  attended  by 
so  much  of  the  supernatural.  The  Divine  designation 
seems  to  imply,  almost  to  demand,  a  Divine  declaration  ; 
and  in  the  birth-story  of  the  Baptist  the  flashes  of  the 
supernatural,  such  as  the  angelic  announcement  and 
the  miraculous  conception,  come  with  a  simple  natural- 
ness. The  prelude  is  in  perfect  symphony  with  the 
song.  St.  Luke  is  the  only  Evangelist  who  gives  us 
the  birth-story.  The  other  three  speak  only  of  his 
mission,    introducing    him    to    us    abruptly,    as,    like 

6 


82  THE   GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

another  Moses,  he  comes  down  from  his  new  Sinai 
with  the  tables  of  the  law  in  his  hands  and  the  strange 
light  upon  his  face.  St.  Luke  takes  us  back  to  the 
infancy,  that  we  may  see  the  beginnings  of  things, 
the  Divine  purpose  enwrapped  in  swaddling  clothes, 
as  it  once  was  set  adrift  in  a  rush-plaited  ark.  Back 
of  the  message  he  puts  the  man,  and  back  of  the  man 
he  puts  the  child — for  is  not  the  child  a  prophecy  or 
invoice  of  the  man  ? — while  all  around  the  child  he  puts 
the  environment  of  home,  showing  us  the  subtle,  power- 
ful influences  that  touched  and  shaped  the  young 
prophet-life.  As  a  plant  carries  up  into  its  outmost 
leaves  the  ingredients  of  the  rock  around  which  its 
fibres  cling,  so  each  upspringing  life — even  the  life  of 
a  prophet — carries  into  its  farthest  reaches  the  un- 
conscious influence  of  its  home  associations.  And  so 
St.  Luke  sketches  for  us  that  quiet  home  in  the  hill- 
country,  whose  windows  opened  and  whose  doors 
turned  toward  Jerusalem,  the  "  city  of  the  great "  and 
invisible  "  King."  He  shows  us  Zacharias  and  Elisa- 
beth, true  saints  of  God,  devout  of  heart  and  blameless 
of  life,  down  into  whose  placid  lives  an  angel  came, 
rippling  them  with  the  excitements  of  new  promises 
and  hopes.  Where  could  the  first  meridian  of  the  New 
Dispensation  run  better  than  through  the  home  of 
these  seers  of  things  unseen,  these  watchers  for  the 
dawn  ?  Where  could  be  so  fitting  a  receptacle  for  the 
Divine  purpose,  where  it  could  so  soon  and  so  well 
ripen  ?  Had  not  God  elected  them  to  this  high  honour, 
and  Himself  prepared  them  for  it?  Had  He  not 
purposely  kept  back  all  earlier,  lower  shoots,  that  their 
whole  growth  should  be  upward,  one  reaching  out 
towards  heaven,  like  the  palm,  its  fruit  clustering 
around  its  outmost  branches  ?     We  can  easily  imagine 


THE    VOICE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  83 

what  intense  emotion  the  message  of  the  angel  would 
produce,  and  that  Zacharias  would  not  so  much  miss 
the  intercourse  of  human  speech  now  that  God's 
thoughts  were  audible  in  his  soul.  What  loving  pre- 
paration would  Elisabeth  make  for  this  child  of  hers, 
who  was  to  be  " great  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord"! 
what  music  she  would  strike  out  from  its  name, 
"  John  "  (the  Grace  of  Jehovah),  the  name  which  was 
both  the  sesame  and  symbol  of  the  New  Dispensation  1 
How  her  eager  heart  would  outrun  the  slow  months, 
as  she  threw  herself  forward  in  anticipation  among  the 
joys  of  maternity,  a  motherhood  so  exalted  !  And  why 
did  she  hide  herself  for  the  five  months,  but  that  she 
might  prepare  herself  for  her  great  mission  ?  that  in 
her  seclusion  she  might  hear  more  distinctly  the  voices 
that  spake  to  her  from  above,  or  that  in  the  silence 
she  might  hear  her  own  heart  sing? 

But  neither  the  eagerness  of  Elisabeth  nor  the  dumb- 
ness of  Zacharias  is  allowed  to  hasten  the  Divine 
purpose.  That  purpose,  like  the  cloud  of  old,  accommo- 
dates itself  to  human  conditions,  the  slow  processions 
of  the  humanities;  and  not  until  the  time  is  "full" 
does  the  hope  become  a  realization,  and  the  infant 
voice  utter  its  first  cry.  And  now  is  gathered  the  rst 
congregation  of  the  new  era.  It  is  but  a  family  gather- 
ing, as  the  neighbours  and  relatives  come  together  for 
the  circumcising  of  the  child — which  rite  was  always 
performed  on  the  corresponding  day  of  the  week  after 
its  birth ;  but  it  is  significant  as  being  the  first  of  those 
ever-widening  circles  that  moving  outwards  from  its 
central  impulse,  spread  rapidly  over  the  land,  as  they 
are  now  rapidly  spreading  over  all  lands.  Zacharias, 
of  course,  was  present ;  but  mute  and  deaf,  he  could 
only  sit  apart,  a  6ilent  spectator.     Elisabeth,  as  we  may 


THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 


gather  from  various  references  and  hints,  was  of  modest 
and  retiring  disposition,  fond  of  putting  herself  in  the 
shade,  of  standing  behind ;  and  so  now  the  conduct  of 
the  ceremony  seems  to  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
some  of  the  relatives.  Presuming  that  the  general 
custom  will  be  observed,  that  the  first-born  child  will 
take  the  name  of  the  father,  they  proceed  to  name  it 
"Zacharias."  This,  however,  Elisabeth  cannot  allow, 
and  with  an  emphatic  negative,  she  says,  "  Not  so ;  but 
he  shall  be  called  John."  Persistent  still  in  their  own 
course,  and  not  satisfied  with  the  mother's  affirmation, 
the  friends  turn  to  the  aged  and  mute  priest,  and  by 
signs  ask  how  they  shall  name  the  child  (and  had 
Zacharias  heard  the  conversation,  he  certainly  would 
not  have  waited  for  their  question,  but  would  have 
spoken  or  written  at  once) ;  and  Zacharias,  calling  for 
the  writing-table,  which  doubtless  had  been  his  close 
companion,  giving  him  his  only  touch  of  the  outer 
world  for  the  still  nine  months,  wrote,  "  His  name  is 
John."  Ah,  they  are  too  late  !  the  child  was  named  even 
long  before  its  birth,  named,  too,  within  the  Holy  Place 
of  the  Temple,  and  by  an  angel  of  God.  "John  "  and 
"  Jesus,"  those  two  names,  since  the  visit  of  the  Virgin, 
have  been  like  two  bells  of  gold,  throwing  waves  of 
music  across  heart  and  home,  ringing  their  welcome  to 
"  the  Christ  who  is  to  be,"  the  Christ  who  is  now  so 
near.  "  His  name  is  John ; "  and  with  that  brief  stroke 
of  his  pen  Zacharias  half  rebukes  these  intrusions  and 
interferences  of  the  relatives,  and  at  the  same  time 
makes  avowal  of  his  own  faith.  And  as  he  wrote  the 
name  "  John,"  his  present  obedience  making  atonement 
for  a  past  unbelief,  instantly  the  paralyzed  tongue  was 
loosed,  and  he  spake,  blessing  God,  throwing  the  name 
of  his  child  into  a  psalm ;  for  what  is  the  Benedictus  of 


THE  VOICE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS,  85 

Zacharias  but  "  John  "  written  large  and  full,  one  sweet 
and  loud  magnifying  of  "the  Grace  and  Favour  of 
Jehovah  "  ? 

It  is  only  a  natural  supposition  that  when  the  inspi- 
ration of  the  song  had  passed  away,  Zacharias'  speech 
would  begin  just  where  it  was  broken  off,  and  that  he 
would  narrate  to  the  guests  the  strange  vision  of  the 
Temple,  with  the  angel's  prophecy  concerning  the  child. 
And  as  the  guests  depart  to  their  own  homes,  each  one 
carries  the  story  of  this  new  Apocalypse,  as  he  goes  to 
spread  the  evangel,  and  to  wake  among  the  neighbour- 
ing hills  the  echoes  of  Zacharias'  song.  No  wonder  that 
fear  came  upon  all  that  dwelt  round  about,  and  that 
they  who  pondered  these  things  in  their  hearts  should 
ask,  "What  then  shall  this  child  be?" 

And  here  the  narrative  of  the  childhood  suddenly 
ends,  for  with  two  brief  sentences  our  Evangelist  dis- 
misses the  thirty  succeeding  years.  He  tells  us  that 
"  the  hand  of  the  Lord  was  with  the  child,"  doubtless 
arranging  its  circumstances,  giving  it  opportunities, 
preparing  it  for  the  rugged  manhood  and  the  rugged 
mission  which  should  follow  in  due  course;  and  that 
"  the  child  grew,  and  waxed  strong  in  spirit,"  the  very 
same  expression  he  afterwards  uses  in  reference  to  the 
Holy  Child,  an  expression  we  can  best  interpret  by  the 
angel's  prophecy,  "He  shall  be  filled  with  the  Holy 
Ghost  even  from  his  mother's  womb."  His  native 
strength  of  spirit  was  made  doubly  strong  by  the  touch 
of  the  Divine  Spirit,  as  the  iron,  coming  from  its 
baptism  of  fire,  is  hardened  and  tempered  into  steel. 
And  so  we  see  that  in  the  Divine  economy  even  a  con- 
secrated childhood  is  a  possible  experience ;  and  that  it  is 
comparatively  infrequent  is  owing  rather  to  our  warped 
vievs  which  possibly  may  need   some   readjustment, 


86  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

than  to  the  Divine  purpose  and  provision.     Is  the  child 
born  into  the  Divine  displeasure,  branded  from  its  birth 
with  the  mark  of  Cain  ?      Is  it  not   rather  born  into 
the  Divine  mercy,  and  all  enswathed  in  the  abundance 
of  Divine  love  ?     True,  it  is  born  of  a  sinful  race,  with 
tendencies  to  self-will  which  may  lead  it  astray ;  but  it 
is  just  as  true  that  it  is  born  within  the  covenant  of 
grace ;  that  around  its  earliest  and  most  helpless  years  is 
thrown  the  aegis  of  Christ's  atonement ;  and  that  these 
innate  tendencies  are  held  in  check  and  neutralized  by 
what  is  called  "  prevenient  grace."     In  the  struggle  for 
that  child-life  are  the  powers  of  darkness  the  first  in 
the  field,  outmarching  and  out-manceuvring  the  powers 
of  light  ?      Why,   the   very  thought   is  half-libellous. 
Heaven's  touch  is  upon  the  child  from  the  first.     Ignore 
it  as  we  may,  deny  it  as  some  will,  yet  back  in  life's 
earliest  dawn  the   Divine  Spirit  is  brooding  over  the 
unformed  world,  parting  its  firmaments  of  right  and 
wrong,   and   fashioning  a  new  Paradise.     Is  evil  the 
inevitable  ?      Must  each  life  taste  the  forbidden   fruit 
before  it  can  attain  to  a  knowledge  of  the  good  ?     In 
other  words,  is  sin  a  great  though  dire  necessity?     If 
a  necessity,  then  it  is  no  longer  sin,  and  we  must  seek 
for  another  and  more  appropriate  name.     No ;  childhood 
is  Christ's  purchased  and  peculiar  possession ;  and  the 
best  type  of  religious  experience  is  that  which  is  marked 
by  no  rapid  transitions,  which  breaks  upon   the  soul 
softly  and  sweetly  as  a  dawn,  its  beginnings  impercep- 
tible, and  so  unremembered.     So  not  without  meaning 
is  it  that  right  at  the  gate  of  the  New  Dispensation  we 
find   the   cradle  of  a   consecrated  childhood.      Placed 
there  by  the  gate,  so  that  all  may  see  it,  and  placed  in 
the  light,  so  that  all  may  read  it,  the  childhood  of  the 
Baptist  tells  us  what  our  childhood  might  oftener  be, 


THE   VOICE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  87 

if  only  its  earthly  guardians— whose  hands  are  so 
powerful  to  impress  and  mould  the  plastic  soul — were, 
like  Zacharias  and  Elisabeth,  themselves  prayerful, 
blameless,  and  devout. 

Now  the  scene  shifts ;  for  we  read  he  "  was  in  the 
deserts  till  the  day  of  his  showing  unto  Israel."  From 
the  fact  that  this  clause  is  intimately  connected  with 
the  preceding,  "  and  the  child  grew  and  waxed  strong 
in  spirit" — -the  two  clauses  having  but  one  subject—- 
some  have  supposed  that  John  was  but  a  child  when  he 
turned  away  from  the  parental  roof  and  sought  the 
wilderness.  But  this  does  not  follow.  The  two  parts 
of  the  sentence  are  only  separated  by  a  comma,  but 
that  pause  may  bridge  over  a  chasm  wide  enough  for 
the  flow  of  numerous  }'ears,  and  between  the  child- 
hood and  the  wilderness  the  narrative  would  almost 
compel  us  to  put  a  considerable  space.  As  his  physical 
development  was,  in  mode  and  proportion,  purely 
human,  with  no  hint  of  anything  unnatural  or  even 
supernatural,  so  we  may  suppose  was  his  mental 
and  spiritual  development.  The  voice  must  become 
articulate;  it  must  play  upon  the  alphabet,  and  turn 
sound  into  speech.  It  must  learn,  that  it  may  think ; 
it  must  study,  that  it  may  know.  And  so  the  human 
teacher  is  indispensable.  Children  reared  of  wolves 
may  learn  to  bark,  but,  in  spite  of  mythology,  they  will 
not  build  cities  and  found  empires.  And  where  could 
the  child  find  better  instructors  than  in  his  own  parents, 
whose  quiet  lives  had  been  passed  in  an  atmosphere  of 
prayer,  and  to  whom  the  very  jots  and  tittles  of  the  law 
were  familiar  and  dear  ?  Indeed,  we  can  scarcely  sup- 
pose that  after  having  prepared  Zacharias  and  Elisabeth 
for  their  great  mission,  working  what  is  something  like 
a  miracle,  that  she  and  no  one  else  shall  be  the  mother 


88  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

of  the  forerunner,  the  child  should  then  be  torn  away 
from  its  natural  guardians  before  the  processes  of  its 
education  are  complete.  It  is  true  they  were  both 
"  well  stricken  in  years,"  but  that  phrase  would  cover 
any  period  from  threescore  years  and  upwards,  and  to 
that  threescore  the  usual  longevity  of  the  Temple  minis- 
trants  would  easily  allow  another  twenty  years  to  be 
added.  May  we  not,  then,  suppose  that  the  child-Baptist 
studied  and  played  under  the  parental  roof,  the  bright 
focus  to  which  their  hopes,  and  thoughts,  and  prayers 
converged ;  that  here,  too,  he  spent  his  boyhood  and 
youth,  preparing  for  that  priestly  office  to  which  his 
lineage  entitled  and  designated  him  ?  for  why  should 
not  the  "  messenger  of  the  Lord "  be  priest  as  well  ? 
We  have  no  further  mention  of  Zacharias  and  Elisa- 
beth, but  it  is  not  improbable  that  their  death  was  the 
occasion  of  John's  retirement  to  the  deserts,  now  a 
young  man,  perhaps,  of  twenty  years. 

According  to  custom,  John  now  should  have  beeft 
introduced  and  consecrated  to  the  priesthood,  twenty 
years  being  the  general  age  of  the  initiates;  but  in 
obedience  to  a  higher  call,  John  renounces  the  priest- 
hood, and  breaks  with  the  Temple  at  once  and  for 
ever.  Retiring  to  the  deserts,  which,  wild  and  gloomy, 
stretch  westward  from  the  Dead  Sea,  and  assuming  the 
old  prophet  garb — a  loose  dress  of  camel's  hair,  bound 
with  a  thong  of  leather — the  student  becomes  the  recluse. 
Inhabiting  some  mountain  cave,  tasting  only  the  coarse 
fare  that  nature  offered — locusts  and  wild  honey — the 
new  Elias  has  come  and  has  found  his  Cherith ;  and 
here,  withdrawn  far  from  "  the  madding  crowd"  and 
the  incessant  babble  of  human  talk,  with  no  companions 
save  the  wild  beasts  and  the  bright  constellations  of 
that  Syrian  sky,  as  they  wheel  round  in  their  nightly 


THE   VOICE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  89 

dance,  the  lonely  man  opens  his  heart  to  God's  great 
thoughts  and  purposes,  and  by  constant  prayer  keeps 
his  clear,  trumpet  voice  in  drill.  Evidently,  John  had 
seen  enough  of  so-called  "  society,"  with  its  cold  con- 
ventionalities and  hypocrisies  ;  his  keen  eye  had  seen 
only  too  easily  the  hollowness  and  corruption  that  lay 
beneath  the  outer  gloss  and  varnish — the  thin  veneer 
that  but  half  concealed  the  worminess  and  rottenness 
that  lay  beneath.  John  goes  out  into  the  desert  like 
another  scapegoat,  bearing  deep  within  his  heart  the 
sins  of  his  nation — sins,  alas,  which  are  yet  unrepented 
of  and  unforgiven !  It  was  doubtless  thoughts  like  these, 
and  the  constant  brooding  upon  them,  which  gave  to 
the  Baptist  that  touch  of  melancholy  that  we  can  detect 
both  in  his  features  and  his  speech.  Austere  in 
person,  with  a  wail  in  his  voice  like  the  sighing  of 
the  wind,  or  charged  at  times  with  suppressed  thunders, 
the  Baptist  reminds  us  of  the  Peri,  who 

"  At  the  gate 
Of  Eden  stood  disconsolate." 

Sin  had  become  to  John  an  awful  fact.  He  could  see 
nothing  else.  The  fragments  of  the  law's  broken 
tables  strewed  the  land,  even  the  courts  of  the  Temple 
itself,  and  men  were  everywhere  tripping  against  them 
and  falling.  But  John  did  see  something  else ;  it  was 
the  day  of  the  Lord,  now  very  near,  the  day  that 
should  come  scathing  and  burning  "as  a  furnace," 
unless,  meanwhile,  Israel  should  repent.  So  the  pro- 
phet mused,  and  as  he  mused  the  fire  burned  within 
his  soul,  even  the  fire  of  the  Refiner,  the  fire  of  God. 

Our  Evangelist  characterizes  the  opening  of  John's 
ministry  with  an  official  word.  He  calls  it  a  "  show- 
ing," a  "manifestation,"  putting  upon   the  very  word 


9©  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

the  stamp  and  sanction  of  a  Divine  appointment.  He 
is  careful,  too,  to  mark  the  time,  so  giving  the  Gospel 
story  its  place  among  the  chronologies  of  the  world ; 
\Ahich  he  does  in  a  most  elaborate  way.  He  first  reads 
the  time  on  the  horoscope  of  the  Empire,  whose 
swinging  pendulum  was  a  rising  or  a  falling  throne  ; 
and  he  states  that  it  was  u  the  fifteenth  year  of  the 
reign  of  Tiberius  Caesar,"  counting  the  two  years  of 
his  joint  rule  with  Augustus.  Then,  as  if  that  were 
not  enough,  he  notes  the  hour  as  indicated  on  the  four 
quarters  of  the  Hebrew  commonwealth,  the  hour  when 
Pilate,  Herod,  Philip,  and  Lysanias  were  in  conjunc- 
tion, ruling  in  their  divided  heavens.  Then,  as  if  that 
even  were  not  enough,  he  marks  the  ecclesiastical  hour 
as  indicated  by  the  marble  time-piece  of  the  Temple ; 
it  was  when  Annas  and  Caiaphas  held  jointly  the  high 
priesthood.  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  elaborate 
mechanism,  wheels  within  wheels  ?  Is  it  because  the 
hour  is  so  important,  that  it  needs  the  hands  of  an 
emperor,  a  governor,  three  tetrarchs,  and  two  high 
priests  to  point  it  ?  Ewald  is  doubtless  right  in  saying 
that  St.  Luke,  as  the  historian,  wished  "  to  frame  the 
Gospel  history  into  the  great  history  of  the  world  "  by 
giving  precise  dates ;  but  if  that  were  the  Evangelist's 
main  reason,  such  an  accumulation  of  time-evidence 
were  scarcely  necessary  ;  for  what  do  the  subsequent 
statements  add  to  the  precision  of  the  first — "  In  the 
fifteenth  year  of  Tiberius  "  ?  We  must,  then,  seek  for 
the  Evangelist's  meaning  elsewhere.  Among  the  oldest 
of  the  Hebrew  prophecies  concerning  the  Messiah  was 
that  of  Jacob.  Closing  his  life,  as  Moses  did  after- 
wards, with  a  wonderful  vision,  he  looked  down  on  the 
far-off  years,  and  speaking  of  the  coming  "  Seed,"  he 
said,  u  The  sceptre  shall  not  depart  from  Judah,  nor  a 


THE   VOICE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS,  9> 

lawgiver  from  between  his  feet,  until  Shiloh  come" 
(Gen.  xlix.  io).  Might  not  this  prophecy  have  been  in 
the  thought  of  the  Evangelist  when  he  stayed  so  much 
longer  than  his  wront  to  note  times  and  seasons  ? 
Why  does  he  mention  Herod  and  Pilate,  Philip  and 
Lysanias,  but  to  show  how  the  sceptre  has,  alas, 
departed  from  Judah,  and  the  lawgiver  from  between 
his  feet,  and  how  the  chosen  land  is  torn  to  pieces  by 
the  Roman  eagles  ?  And  why  does  he  name  Annas 
and  Caiaphas,  but  to  show  how  the  same  disintegrating 
forces  are  at  work  even  within  the  Temple,  when  the 
rightful  high  priest  can  be  set  aside  and  superseded  by 
the  nominee  of  a  foreign  and  a  Pagan  power  ?  Verily 
11  the  glory  has  departed  from  Israel ; "  and  if  St.  Luke 
introduces  foreign  emperors,  tetrarchs,  and  governors, 
it  is  that  they  may  ring  a  muffled  peal  over  the  grave 
of  a  dead  nation,  a  funeral  knell,  which,  however,  shall 
be  the  signal  for  the  coming  of  the  Shiloh,  and  the 
gathering  of  the  people  unto  Him. 

Such  were  the  times — times  of  disorganization,  dis- 
order, and  almost  despair — when  the  wrord  of  God  came 
unto  John  in  the  wilderness.  It  came  "  upon  "  him, 
as  it  literally  reads,  probably  in  one  of  those  wonderful 
theophanies,  as  when  God  spake  to  Moses  from  the 
flaming  bush,  or  as  when  He  appeared  to  Elijah  upon 
Horeb,  sending  him  back  to  an  unfinished  task.  John 
obeyed.  Emerging  from  his  wilderness  retreat,  clad 
in  his  strange  attire,  spare  in  build,  his  features  sharp 
and  worn  with  fasting,  his  long,  dishevelled  hair  telling 
of  his  Nazarite  vow,  he  moves  down  to  the  Jordan 
like  an  apparition.  His  appearance  is  everywhere 
hailed  with  mingled  curiosity  and  delight.  Crowds, 
come  in  ever-increasing  numbers,  not  one  class  only, 
but  all  classes — priests,  soldiers,  officials,  people — until 


92  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

it  seemed  as  if  the  cities  had  emptied  themselves  into 
the  Jordan  valley.  And  what  went  they  "out  for  to 
see  "  ?  "A  reed  shaken  with  the  wind  "  ?  A  prophe- 
sier  of  smooth  things  ?  A  preacher  of  revolt  against 
tyranny  ?  Nay ;  John  was  no  wind-shaken  reed  ; 
he  was  rather  the  heavenly  wind  itself,  swaying  the 
multitudes  at  will,  and  bending  hearts  and  consciences 
into  penitence  and  prayer.  John  was  no  preacher  of 
revolt  against  the  powers  that  be ;  in  his  mind,  Israel 
had  revolted  more  and  more,  and  he  must  bring  them 
back  to  their  allegiance,  or  himself  die  in  the  attempt. 
John  was  no  preacher  of  smooth  things  ;  there  was 
not  even  the  charm  of  variety  about  his  speech.  The 
one  burden  of  his  message  was,  "  Repent :  for  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand."  But  the  effect  was 
marvellous.  The  lone  voice  from  the  wilderness  swept 
over  the  land  like  the  breath  of  God.  Borne  forwards 
on  a  thousand  lips,  it  echoed  through  the  cities  and 
penetrated  into  remotest  places.  Judaea,  Samaria,  and 
even  distant  Galilee  felt  the  quiver  of  the  strange 
voice,  and  even  from  the  shore  of  the  Northern  Sea 
men  came  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  the  new  teacher,  and 
to  call  themselves  John's  disciples.  So  widespread 
and  so  deep  was  the  movement,  it  sent  its  ripples  even 
within  the  royal  palace,  awaking  the  curiosity,  and 
perhaps  the  conscience,  of  Herod  himself.  It  was  a 
genuine  revival  of  religion,  such  as  Judaea  had  not 
witnessed  since  the  days  of  Ezra,  the  awaking  of  the 
national  conscience  and  of  the  national  hope. 

Perhaps  it  would  be  difficult,  by  any  analysis  of 
ours,  to  discover  or  to  define  the  secret  of  John's 
success.  It  was  the  resultant,  not  of  one  force,  but 
of  many.  For  instance,  the  hour  was  favourable.  It 
was  the  Sabbatic  year,  when   field-work  was   in   the 


THE  VOICE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  93 


main  suspended,  and  men  everywhere  had  leisure, 
mind  and  hand  lying,  as  it  were,  fallow.  Then,  too, 
the  very  dress  of  the  Baptist  would  not  be  without  its 
influence,  especially  on  a  mind  so  sensitive  to  form 
and  colour  as  the  Hebrew  mind  was.  Dress  to  them 
was  a  form  of  duty.  They  were  accustomed  to  weave 
into  their  tassels  sacred  symbols,  so  making  die  external 
speak  of  the  eternal.  Their  hands  played  on  the  parti- 
coloured threads  most  faithfully  and  sacredly;  for 
were  not  these  the  chords  of  Divine  harmonies  ?  But 
here  is  one  who  discards  both  the  priestly  and  the 
civilian  dress,  and  who  wears,  instead,  the  rough  camel's 
hair  robe  of  the  old  prophets.  The  very  dress  would 
thus  appeal  most  powerfully  to  their  imagination, 
carrying  back  their  thoughts  to  the  time  of  the  Theo- 
cracy, when  Jehovah  was  not  silent  as  now,  and  when 
Heaven  was  so  near,  speaking  by  some  Samuel  or 
Elijah.  Are  those  days  returning  ?  they  would  ask.  Is 
this  the  Elias  who  was  to  come  and  restore  all  things  ? 
Surely  it  must  be.  And  in  the  rustle  of  the  Baptist's 
robe  they  heard  the  rustle  of  Elijah's  mantle,  dropping 
a  second  time  by  these  Jordan  banks.  Then,  too, 
there  was  the  personal  charm  of  the  man.  John  was 
young,  if  3'ears  are  our  reckoning,  for  he  counted  but 
thirty ;  but  in  his  case  the  verve  and  energy  of  youth 
were  blended  with  the  discretion  and  saintliness  of  age. 
What  was  the  world  to  him,  its  fame,  its  luxury  and 
wealth  ?  They  were  only  the  dust  he  shook  from  his 
feet,  as  his  spirit  sighed  for  and  soared  after  Heaven's 
better  things.  He  asks  nothing  of  earth  but  her 
plainest  fare,  a  couch  of  grass,  and  by-and-by  a  grave. 
Then,  too,  there  was  a  positiveness  about  the  man, 
that  would  naturally  attract,  in  a  drifting,  shifting, 
vacillating   age.      The   strong   will   is   magnetic ;   the 


94  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.   LUKE. 

weaker  wills  follow  and  cluster  round  it,  as  swarm- 
ing bees  cluster  around  their  queen.  And  John  was 
intensely  positive.  His  speech  was  clear-cut  and 
incisive,  with  a  tremendous  earnestness  in  it,  as  if 
a  "Thus  saith  the  Lord"  were  at  his  heart.  John's 
mood  was  not  the  subjunctive,  where  his  words  could 
eddy  among  the  u  mays  "  and  "  mights  ; "  it  was  plainly 
the  indicative,  or  better  still,  the  imperative.  He  spoke 
as  one  who  believed,  and  who  intensely  felt  what  he 
believed.  Then,  too,  there  was  a  certain  nobleness 
about  his  courage.  He  knew  no  rank,  no  party ;  he 
was  superior  to  all.  lie  feared  God  too  much  to  have 
any  fear  of  man.  He  spake  no  word  for  the  sake  of 
pleasing,  and  he  kept  back  no  word — even  the  hot 
rebuke — for  fear  of  offending.  Truth  to  him  was 
more  than  titles,  and  right  was  the  only  royalty.  How 
he  painted  the  Pharisees — those  shiny,  slimy  men, 
with  creeping,  sinuous  ways — wTith  that  dark  epithet 
"  brood  of  vipers  "  !  With  what  a  fearless  courage  he 
denounced  the  incest  of  Herod  !  He  will  not  level 
down  Sinai,  accommodating  it  to  royal  passions  !  Not 
he.  "It  is  not  lawful  for  thee  to  have  her" — such 
were  his  words,  that  rolled  in  upon  Herod's  conscience 
like  a  peal  of  Sinai's  thunder,  telling  him  that  law  was 
law,  that  right  was  more  than  might,  and  purity  more 
than  power.  Then,  too,  there  was  something  about 
his  message  that  was  attractive.  That  word  "  the 
kingdom  of  heaven "  struck  upon  the  national  heart 
like  a  bell,  and  set  it  vibrating  with  new  hopes,  and 
awaking  all  kinds  of  beautiful  dreams  of  recovered 
pre-eminence  and  power. 

But  while  all  these  were  auxiliaries,  factors,  anc 
co-efficients  in  the  problem  of  the  Baptist's  success, 
they  are   not  sufficient   in  themselves   to  account  for 


THE   VOICE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  95 

that  success.  It  is  not  difficult  for  a  man  of  superior 
mental  attainment,  and  of  strong  individuality,  to  attract 
a  following,  especially  if  that  following  be  in  the  direc- 
tion of  self-interest.  The  emotions  and  passions  of 
humanity  lie  near  the  surface ;  they  can  be  easily 
swept  into  a  storm  by  the  strong  or  by  the  pathetic 
voice.  But  to  reach  the  conscience,  to  lift  up  the  veil, 
and  to  pass  within  to  that  Most  Holy  of  the  human 
soul  is  what  man,  unaided,  cannot  do.  Only  the 
Divine  Voice  can  break  those  deep  silences  of  the  heart ; 
or  if  the  human  voice  is  used  the  power  is  not  in  the 
words  of  human  speech — those  words,  even  the  best, 
are  but  the  dead  wires  along  which  the  Divine  Voice 
moves — it  is  the  power  of  God. 

"  Some  men  live  near  to  God,  as  my  right  arm 
Is  near  to  me;  and  then  they  walk  about 
Mailed  in  full  proof  of  faith,  and  bear  a  charm 
That  mocks  at  fear,  and  bars  the  door  on  doubt, 
And  dares  the  impossible." 

Just  such  a  man  was  the  Baptist.  He  was  a  u  man 
of  God."  He  lived,  and  moved,  and  had  his  being  in 
God.  Self  to  him  was  an  extinct  passion.  Envy, 
pride,  ambition,  jealousy,  these  were  unknown  tongues; 
his  pure  soul  understood  not  their  meaning.  Like  his 
great  prototype,  "  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  God "  was 
upon  him.  His  life  was  one  conscious  inspiration  ; 
and  John  himself  had  been  baptized  with  the  baptism 
of  which  he  spoke,  but  which  he  himself  could  not 
give,  the  baptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  of  fire.  This 
only  will  account  for  the  wonderful  effects  produced 
by  his  preaching.  John,  in  his  own  experience,  had 
antedated  Pentecost,  receiving  the  "  power  from  on 
high,"  and  as  he  spoke  it  was  with  a  tongue  of  fire, 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  ST.   LUKE. 


a  voice  in  whose  accent  and  tone  the  people  could 
detect  the  deeper  Voice  of  God. 

But  if  John  could  not  baptize  with  the  higher  bap- 
tism, usurping  the  functions  of  the  One  coming  after, 
he  could,  and  he  did,  institute  a  lower,  symbolic  baptism 
of  water,  that  thus  the  visible  might  lead  up  to  the 
invisible.  In  what  mode  John's  baptism  was  adminis- 
tered we  cannot  tell,  nor  is  it  material  that  we  should 
know.  We  do  know,  however,  that  the  baptism  of  the 
Spirit — and  in  John's  mind  the  two  were  closely  related 
— was  constantly  referred  to  in  Scripture  as  an  effusion, 
a  u  pouring  out,"  a  sprinkling,  and  never  once  as  an 
immersion.  And  what  was  the  "  baptism  of  fire  "  to 
the  mind  of  John  ?  Was  it  not  that  which  the  prophet 
Isaiah  had  experienced,  when  the  angel  touched  his 
lips  with  the  live  coal  taken  from  the  altar,  pronounc- 
ing over  him  the  great  absolution,  "Lo,  this  hath 
touched  thy  lips ;  and  thine  iniquity  is  taken  away,  and 
thy  sin  purged  "  (Isa.  vi.  7)  ?  At  best,  the  baptism  of 
water  is  but  a  shadow  of  the  better  thing,  the  outward 
symbol  of  an  inward  grace.  We  need  not  quarrel 
about  modes  and  forms.  Scripture  has  purposely  left 
them  indeterminate,  so  that  we  need  not  wrangle  about 
them.  There  is  no  need  that  we  exalt  the  shadow, 
levelling  it  up  to  the  substance ;  and  still  less  should 
we  level  it  down,  turning  it  into  a  playground  for  the 
schools. 

Thus  far  the  lives  of  Jesus  and  John  have  lain  apart. 
One  growing  up  in  the  hill-country  of  Galilee,  the 
other  in  the  hill-country  of  Judaea,  and  then  in  the 
isolation  of  the  wilderness,  they  have  never  looked 
in  each  other's  face,  though  they  have  doubtless  heard 
often  of  each  other's  mission.  They  meet  at  last. 
John   had   been   constantly  telling   of  One   who  was 


THE    VOICE  IN  THE    WILDERNESS.  97 

coming  after — "after/'  indeed,  in  order  of  time,  but  "be- 
fore/' infinitely  before,  in  pre-eminence  and  authority. 
Mightier  than  he,  He  was  the  Lord.  John  would  deem 
it  an  honour  to  kneel  down  before  so  august  a  Master, 
to  untie  and  bear  away  His  shoes  ;  for  in  such  a 
Presence  servility  was  both  becoming  and  ennobling. 
With  such  words  as  these  the  crier  in  the  wilderness 
had  been  transferring  the  people's  thought  from  him- 
self, and  setting  their  hearts  listening  for  the  Coming 
One,  so  preparing  and  broadening  His  way.  Suddenly, 
in  one  of  the  pauses  of  his  ministrations,  a  Stranger 
presents  Himself,  and  asks  that  the  rite  of  baptism  may 
be  administered  to  Him.  There  is  nothing  peculiar 
about  His  dress;  He  is  younger  than  the  Baptist — 
much  younger,  apparently,  for  the  rough,  ascetic  life 
has  prematurely  aged  him — but  such  is  the  grace  and 
dignity  of  His  person,  such  the  mingled  "  strength  and 
beauty  "  of  His  manhood,  that  even  John,  who  never 
quailed  in  the  presence  of  mortal  before,  is  awed  and 
abashed  now.  Discerning  the  innate  Royalty  of  the 
Stranger,  and  receiving  a  monition  from  the  Higher 
World,  with  which  he  kept  up  close  correspondence, 
the  Baptist  is  assured  that  it  is  He,  the  Lord  and 
Christ.  Immediately  his  whole  manner  changes.  The 
voice  that  has  swept  over  the  land  like  a  whirlwind, 
now  is  hushed,  subdued,  speaking  softly,  deferentially, 
reverentially.  Here  is  a  Presence  in  which  his  im- 
peratives all  melt  away  and  disappear,  a  Will  that  is 
infinitely  higher  than  his  own,  a  Person  for  whom 
his  baptism  is  out  of  place.  John  is  perplexed ;  he 
hesitates,  he  demurs.  "  I  have  need  to  be  baptized  of 
Thee,  and  comest  Thou  to  me  ?  "  and  John,  Elias-like, 
would  fain  have  wrapped  his  mantle  around  his  face, 
burying  out  of  sight  his  little  u  me,"  in  the  presence  of 

7 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  ST   LUKE. 


the  Lord.  But  Jesus  said,  "  Suffer  it  now :  for  thus 
it  becometh  us  to  fulfil  all  righteousness  "  (Matt.  iii.  15). 

The  baptism  of  Jesus  was  evidently  a  new  kind  of 
baptism,  one  in  which  the  usual  formulas  were 
strangely  out  of  place;  and  the  question  naturally 
arises,  Why  should  Jesus  submit  to,  and  even  ask 
for,  a  baptism  that  was  so  associated  with  repentance 
and  sin  ?  Could  there  be  any  place  for  repentance, 
any  room  for  confession,  in  the  Sinless  One  ?  John 
felt  the  anomaly,  and  so  shrank  from  administering  the 
rite,  till  the  reply  of  Jesus  put  His  baptism  on  different 
ground—  ground  altogether  clear  of  any  personal 
demerit.  Jesus  asked  for  baptism,  not  for  the  wash- 
ing away  of  sin,  but  that  He  might  "  fulfil  all  righteous- 
ness." He  was  baptized,  not  for  His  own  sake,  but 
for  the  world's  sake.  Coming  to  redeem  humanity, 
He  would  identify  Himself  with  that  humanity,  even 
the  sinful  humanity  that  it  was.  Son  of  God,  He 
would  become  a  true  Son  of  man,  that  through  His 
redemption  all  other  sons  of  men  might  become;  true 
sons  of  God.  Bearing  the  sins  of  many,  taking  away 
the  sin  of  the  world,  that  heavy  burden  lay  at  His 
heart  from  the  first;  He  could  not  lay  it  down  until 
He  left  it  nailed  to  His  cross.  Himself  knowing  no 
sin,  He  yet  becomes  the  Sin-offering,  and  is  "  numbered 
among  the  transgressors."  And  as  Jesus  went  to  the 
cross  and  into  the  grave  mediatorially,  as  Humanity's 
Son,  so  Jesus  now  passes  into  the  baptismal  waters 
mediatorially,  repenting  for  that  world  whose  heart  is 
still  hard,  and  whose  eyes  are  dry  of  godly  tears,  and 
confessing  the  sin  which  He  in  love  has  made  His  own, 
the  "  sin  of  the  world,"  the  sin  He  has  come  to  make 
atonement  for  and  to  bear  away. 

Such   is   the   meaning   of  the   Jordan    baptism,   in 


THE    VOICE  IN  THE    WIIDERNESS.  99 

which  Jesus  puts  the  stamp  of  Divinity  upon  John's 
mission,  while  John  bears  witness  to  the  sinlessness  of 
Jesus.  But  a  Higher  Witness  came  than  even  that  of 
John  ;  for  no  sooner  was  the  rite  administered,  and  the 
river-bank  regained,  than  the  heavens  were  opened, 
and  the  Spirit  of  God,  in  the  form  of  a  fiery  dove 
descended  and  alighted  on  the  head  of  Jesus;  while 
a  Voice  out  of  the  Unseen  proclaimed,  "  This  is  My 
beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased."  And  so  the 
Son  of  man  receives  the  heaventy,  as  well  as  the 
earthly  baptism.  Baptized  with  water,  He  is  now 
baptized  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with  fire,  anointed 
with  the  unction  of  the  Holy  One.  But  why  should 
the  Holy  Spirit  descend  upon  Jesus  in  the  form  of  a 
dove,  and  afterwards  upon  the  disciples  in  the  form  of 
cloven  tongues  of  fire  ?  We  can  understand  the 
symbolism  of  the  cloven  tongues ;  for  was  not  their 
mission  to  preach  and  teach,  spreading  and  establishing 
the  kingdom  by  a  consecrated  speech — the  Divine 
word  carried  forward  by  the  human  voice?  What, 
then,  is  the  meaning  of  the  dove-form  ?  Does  it  refer 
to  the  dove  of  the  Old  Dispensation,  which  bearing  the 
olive-leaf  in  its  mouth,  preached  its  Gospel  to  the 
dwellers  in  the  ark,  telling  of  the  abatement  of  the 
angry  waters,  and  of  a  salvation  that  was  near  ?  And 
wras  not  Jesus  a  heavenly  Dove,  bearing  to  the  world 
the  olive-branch  of  reconciliation  and  of  peace,  pro- 
claiming the  fuller,  wider  Gospel  of  mercy  and  of  love  ? 
The  supposition,  at  any  rate,  is  a  possible  one,  while  the 
words  of  Jesus  would  almost  make  it  a  probable  one ; 
for  speaking  of  this  same  baptism  of  the  Spirit,  He 
says — and  in  His  words  we  can  hear  the  beat  and 
whir  of  dove-wings — "He  anointed  me  to  preach 
good  tidings  to  the  poor :  He  hath  sent  me  to  proclaim 


ioo  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST  LUKE. 

release  to  the  captives,  ...  to  set  at  liberty  them  that 
are  bruised  "  (iv.  1 8). 

The  interview  between  Jesus  and  John  was  but 
brief,  and  in  all  probability  final.  They  spend  the 
following  night  near  to  each  other,  but  apart.  The  day 
after,  Jchn  sees  Jesus  walking,  but  the  narrative  would 
imply  that  they  did  not  meet.  John  only  points  to  Him 
and  says,  "Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world ; "  and  they  part,  each  to  follow  his 
separate  path,  and  to  accomplish  his  separate  mission. 

11  The  Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world."  Such  was  John's  testimony  to  Jesus,  in  the 
moment  of  his  clearest  illumination.  He  saw  in  Jesus, 
not  as  one  learned  writer  would  have  us  suppose, 
the  sheep  of  David's  pastoral,  its  life  encircled  with 
green  pastures  and  still  waters — not  this,  but  a  lamb, 
44  the  Lamb  of  God,"  the  Paschal  Lamb,  led  all  uncom- 
plaining to  the  slaughter,  and  by  its  death  bearing 
away  sin — not  either  the  sin  of  a  year  or  the  sin  of  a 
race,  but  "  the  sin  of  the  world."  Never  had  prophet 
so  prophesied  before;  never  had  mortal  eye  seen  so 
clearly  and  so  deeply  into  God's  great  mystery  of 
mercy.  How,  then,  can  we  explain  that  mood  of  dis- 
appointment and  of  doubt  which  afterwards  fell  upon 
John  ?  What  does  it  mean  that  from  his  prison  he 
should  send  two  of  his  disciples  to  Jesus  with  the 
strange  question,  "  Art  Thou  He  that  cometh,  or  look 
we  for  another?"  (vii.  19).  John  is  evidently  dis- 
appointed— yes,  and  dejected  too ;  and  the  Elias  still, 
Herod's  prison  is  to  him  the  juniper  of  the  desert.  He 
thought  the  Christ  would  be  one  like  unto  himself, 
crying  in  the  wilderness,  but  with  a  louder  voice  and 
more  penetrating  accent.  He  would  be  some  ardent 
Reformer,  with  axe  in  hand,  or  fan,  and  with  baptism 


THE    VOICE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  101 

of  fire.  But  lo,  Jesus  comes  so  different  from  his  thought 
— with  no  axe  in  hand  that  he  can  see,  with  no  baptism 
of  fire  that  he  can  hear  of,  a  Sower  rather  than  a 
Winnower,  scattering  thoughts,  principles,  beatitudes, 
and  parables,  telling  not  so  much  of  '■'  the  wrath  to 
come  "  as  of  the  love  that  is  already  come,  if  men  will 
but  repent  and  receive  it — that  John  is  fairly  perplexed 
and  actually  sends  to  Jesus  for  some  word  that  shall  be 
a  solvent  for  his  doubts.  It  only  shows  how  this  Elias, 
too,  was  a  man  of  like  passions  with  ourselves,  and 
that  even  prophets'  eyes  were  sometimes  dim,  reading 
God's  purposes  with  a  blurred  vision.  Jesus  returns 
a  singular  answer.  He  says  neither  Yes  nor  No ;  but 
He  goes  out  and  works  His  accustomed  miracles,  and 
then  dismisses  the  two  disciples  with  the  message,  "Go 
your  way,  and  tell  John  what  things  ye  have  seen  and 
heard ;  how  that  the  blind  see,  the  lame  walk,  the 
lepers  are  cleansed,  the  deaf  hear,  the  dead  are  raised, 
to  the  poor  the  Gospel  is  preached.  And  blessed  is 
he,  whosoever  shall  not  be  offended  in  Me."  These 
words  are  in  part  a  quotation  from  John's  favourite 
prophet,  Isaiah,  who  emphasized  as  no  other  prophet 
did  the  evangelistic  character  of  Christ's  mission — 
which  characteristic  John  seems  to  have  overlooked. 
In  his  thought  the  Christ  was  Judge,  the  great  Refiner, 
sifting  the  base  from  the  pure,  and  casting  it  into  some 
Gehenna  of  burnings.  But  Jesus  reminds  John  that 
mercy  is  before  and  above  judgment ;  that  He  has 
come,  "  not  to  condemn  the  world,"  but  to  save  it,  and 
to  save  it,  not  by  reiterations  of  the  law,  but  by  a 
manifestation  of  love.  Ebal  and  Sinai  have  had  their 
word ;  now  Gerizim  and  Calvary  must  speak. 

And  so  this  greatest  of  the  prophets  was  but  human, 
and  therefore  fallible.     He  saw  the  Christ,  no  longer 


102  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

afar  off,  but  near — yea,  present ;  but  he  saw  in  part,  and 
he  prophesied  in  part.  He  did  not  see  the  who'e 
Christ,  or  grasp  the  full  purport  of  His  mission.  He 
stood  on  the  threshold  of  the  kingdom ;  but  the  least 
of  those  who  should  pass  within  that  kingdom  should 
stand  on  a  higher  vantage-ground,  and  so  be  greater 
than  he.  Indeed,  it  seems  scarcely  possible  that  John 
could  have  fully  understood  Jesus  ;  the  two  were  so 
entirely  different.  In  dress,  in  address,  in  mode  of 
life,  in  thought  the  two  were  exact  opposites.  John 
occupies  the  border-region  between  the  Old  and  the 
New ;  and  though  his  life  appears  in  the  New,  he 
himself  belongs  rather  to  the  Old  Dispensation.  His 
accent  is  Mosaic,  his  message  a  tritonomy,  a  third 
giving  of  the  law.  When  asked  the  all-important 
question,  u  What  shall  we  do  ? "  John  laid  stress  on 
works  of  charity,  and  by  his  metaphor  of  the  two  coats 
he  showed  that  men  should  endeavour  to  equalize  their 
mercies.  And  when  publicans  and  soldiers  ask  the 
same  question  John  gives  a  sort  of  transcript  of  the 
old  tables,  striking  the  negatives  of  duty  :  "  Extort  no 
more  than  that  which  is  appointed  you  ; "  "  Do  violence 
to  no  man."  Jesus  would  have  answered  in  the  simple 
positive  that  covered  all  classes  and  all  cases  alike : 
"  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself."  But  such 
was  the  difference  between  the  Old  and  the  New :  the 
one  said,  "  Do,  and  thou  shalt  live ; "  the  other  said, 
"  Live,  and  thou  shalt  do."  The  voice  of  John  awoke 
the  conscience,  but  he  could  not  give  it  rest.  He  was 
the  preparer  of  the  way  ;  Jesus  was  the  Way,  as  He 
was  the  Truth  and  the  Life.  John  was  the  Voice; 
Jesus  was  the  Word.  John  must  " decrease"  and 
disappear ;  Jesus  must  "  increase,"  filling  all  times  and 
all  climes  with  His  glorious,  abiding  presence. 


THE   VOICE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  103 

But  the  mission  of  John  is  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
dark  clouds  are  gathering  in  the  west.  The  popular 
idol  still,  a  hostile  current  has  set  against  him.  The 
Pharisees,  unforgetting  and  unforgiving,  are  deadly 
bitter,  creeping  across  his  path,  and  hissing  out  their 
"  Devil ; "  while  Herod,  who  in  his  better  moods  had 
invited  the  Baptist  to  his  palace,  now  casts  him  into 
prison.  He  will  silence  the  voice  he  has  failed  to 
bribe,  the  voice  that  beat  against  the  chambers  of  his 
revelry,  like  a  strange  midnight  gust,  and  that  set  him 
trembling  like  an  aspen.  We  need  not  linger  over 
the  last  sad  tragedy — how  the  royal  birthday  was 
kept,  with  a  banquet  to  the  State  officials;  how  the 
courtesan  daughter  of  Herodias  came  in  and  danced 
before  the  guests;  and  how  the  half-drunken  Herod 
swore  a  rash  oath,  that  he  would  give  her  anything  she 
might  ask,  up  to  the  half  of  his  kingdom.  Herodias 
knew  well  what  wine  and  passion  would  do  for  Herod. 
She  even  guessed  his  promise  beforehand,  and  had  given 
full  directions  to  her  daughter ;  and  soon  as  the  rash 
oath  had  fallen  from  his  lips — before  he  could  recall  or 
change  his  words — sharp  and  quick  the  request  is  made, 
11  Give  me  here  John  Baptist's  head  in  a  charger."  There 
is  a  momentary  conflict,  and  Herod  gives  the  fearful 
word.  The  head  of  John  is  brought  into  the  banquet- 
hall  before  the  assembled  guests — the  long  flowing  locks, 
the  eyes  that  even  in  death  seemed  to  sparkle  with  the 
fire  of  God ;  the  lips  sacred  to  purity  and  truth,  the  lips 
that  could  not  gloss  a  sin,  even  the  sin  of  a  Herod.  Yes  ; 
it  is  there,  the  head  of  John  the  Baptist.  The  courtiers 
see  it,  and  smile ;  Herod  sees  it,  but  does  not  smile. 
That  face  haunts  him ;  he  never  forgets  it.  The  dead 
prophet  lives  still,  and  becomes  to  Herod  another 
conscience. 


i04  THE   GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE, 

"  And  she  brought  it  to  her  mother.  And  his  disciples 
came,  and  took  up  the  corpse,  and  buried  him  ;  and  they 
went  and  told  Jesus"  (Matt.  xiv.  1 1,  12).  Such  is  the 
finis  to  a  consecrated  life,  and  such  the  work  achieved  by 
one  man,  in  a  ministry  that  was  only  counted  by  months. 
Shall  not  this  be  his  epitaph,  recording  his  faithfulness 
and  zeal,  and  at  the  same  time  rebuking  our  aimlessness 
and  sloth  ? — 

41  He  liveth  long  who  liveth  well ; 
All  other  life  is  short  and  vain  : 
He  liveth  longest  who  can  tell 
Of  living  most  for  heavenly  gain," 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   TEMPTATION. 

THE  waters  of  the  Jordan  do  not  more  effectually 
divide  the  Holy  Land  than  they  bisect  the  Holy 
Life.  The  thirty  years  of  Nazareth  were  quiet  enough, 
amid  the  seclusions  of  nature  and  the  attractions  of 
home;  but  the  double  baptism  by  the  Jordan  now 
remits  that  sweet  idyll  to  the  past.  The  I  AM  of  the 
New  Testament  moves  forward  from  the  passive  to 
the  active  voice;  the  long  peace  is  exchanged  for 
the  conflict  whose  consummation  will  be  the  Divine 
Passion. 

The  subject  of  our  Lord's  temptation  is  mysterious, 
and  therefore  difficult.  Lying  in  part  within  the  domain 
of  human  consciousness  and  experience,  it  stretches  far 
beyond  our  sight,  throwing  its  dark  projections  into  the 
realm  of  spirit,  that  realm,  "  dusk  with  horrid  shade," 
which  Reason  may  not  traverse,  and  which  Revelation 
itself  has  not  illumined,  save  by  occasional  lines  of  light, 
thrown  into,  rather  than  across  it.  We  cannot,  perhaps, 
hope  to  have  a  perfect  understanding  of  it,  for  in  a 
subject  so  wide  and  deep  there  is  room  for  the  play 
of  many  hypotheses ;  but  inspiration  would  not  have 
recorded  the  event  so  minutely  had  it  not  a  direct 
bearing  upon  the  whole  of  the  Divine  Life,  and  were  it 
not  full  of  pregnant  lessons  for  all  times.  To  Him  who 
suffered  within  it,  it  was  a  wilderness  indeed  ;  but  to  us 


ic6  THE   GOSPEL   OF  ST.   LUKE. 

"  the  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place "  have  become 
"  glad,  and  the  desert .  .  .  blossoms  as  the  rose."  Let  us, 
then,  seek  the  wilderness  reverently  yet  hopefully,  and 
in  doing  so  let  us  carry  in  our  minds  these  two  guiding 
thoughts — they  will  prove  a  silken  thread  for  the  laby- 
rinth— first,  that  Jesus  was  tempted  as  man;  and 
second,  that  Jesus  was  tempted  as  the  Son  of  man. 

Jesus  was  tempted  as  man.  It  is  true  that  in  His 
Person  the  human  and  the  Divine  natures  were  in  some 
mysterious  way  united  ;  that  in  His  flesh  was  the  great 
mystery,  the  manifestation  of  God ;  but  now  we  must 
regard  Him  as  divested  of  these  dignities  and  Divinities. 
They  are  laid  aside,  with  all  other  pre-mundane  glories  ; 
and  whatever  His  miraculous  power,  for  the  present  it  is 
as  if  it  Were  not.  Jesus  takes  with  Him  into  the  wilder- 
ness our  manhood,  a  perfect  humanity  of  flesh  and  blood, 
of  bone  and  nerve ;  no  Docetic  shadow,  but  a  real  body, 
"made  in  all  things  like  unto  His  brethren;"  and  He 
goes  into  the  wilderness,  to  be  tempted,  not  in  some 
unearthly  way,  as  one  spirit  might  be  tempted  of 
another,  but  to  be  "  tempted  in  all  points  like  as  we 
are,"  in  a  fashion  perfectly  human.  Then,  too,  Jesus 
was  tempted  as  the  Son  of  man,  not  only  as  the  perfect 
Man,  but  as  the  representative  Man.  As  the  first  Adam, 
by  disobedience,  fell,  and  fallen,  was  driven  forth  into  the 
wilderness,  so  the  second  Adam  comes  to  take  the  place 
of  the  first.  Tracking  the  steps  of  the  first  Adam,  He 
too  gees  out  into  the  wilderness,  that  He  may  spoil  the 
spoiler,  and  that  by  His  perfect  obedience  He  may  lead 
a  fallen  but  redeemed  humanity  back  again  to  Paradise, 
reversing  the  whole  drift  of  the  Fall,  and  turning  it  into 
a  "  rising  again  for  many."  And  so  Jesus  gees,  as  the 
Representative  Man,  to  do  battle  for  humanity,  and  to 
receive  in  His  own  Person,  not  one  form  of  temptation, 


THE   TEMPTATION.  107 

as  the  first  Adam  did,  but  every  form  that  malignant 
Evil  can  devise,  or  that  humanity  can  know.  Bearing 
these  two  facts  in  mind,  we  will  consider — (1)  the 
circumstances  of  the  Temptation,  and  (2)  the  nature  of 
the  Temptation. 

I.  The  circumstances  of  the  Temptation.  "And 
Jesus,  full  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  returned  from  the  Jordan, 
and  was  led  by  the  Spirit  in  the  wilderness."  The 
Temptation,  then,  occurred  immediately  after  the  twofold 
baptism ;  or,  as  St.  Mark  expresses  it,  using  his  charac- 
teristic word,  "And  straightway  the  Spirit  driveth  Him 
forth  into  the  wilderness"  (Mark  i.  12).  Evidently 
there  is  some  connection  between  the  Jordan  and  the 
wilderness,  and  there  were  Divine  reasons  why  the 
test  should  be  placed  directly  after  the  baptism.  Those 
Jordan  waters  were  the  inauguration  for  His  mission — a 
kind  of  Beautiful  Gate,  leading  up  to  the  different  courts 
and  courses  of  His  public  ministry,  and  then  up  to  the 
altar  of  sacrifice.  The  baptism  of  the  Spirit  was  His 
anointing  for  that  ministry,  and  borrowing  our  light 
from  the  after  Pentecostal  days,  His  enduement  of 
power  for  that  ministry.  The  Divine  purpose,  which 
had  been  gradually  shaping  itself  to  His  mind,  now 
opens  in  one  vivid  revelation.  The  veil  of  mist  in 
which  that  purpose  had  been  enwrapped  is  swept  away 
by  the  Spirit's  breath,  disclosing  to  His  view  the  path 
redeeming  Love  must  take,  even  the  way  of  the  cross. 
It  is  probable,  too,  that  He  received  at  the  same  time, 
if  not  the  enduement,  at  least  the  consciousness  of 
miraculous  power ;  for  St.  John,  with  one  stroke  of  his 
pen,  brushes  away  those  glossy  webs  that  later  tradi- 
tion has  spun,  the  miracles  of  the  Childhood.  The 
Scriptures  do  not  represent  Jesus  as  any  prodigy.  His 
childhood,  youth,  and  manhood  were  like  the  corre- 


io8  THE   GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

sponding  phases  of  other  lives ;  and  the  Gospels  cer- 
tainly put  no  aureole  about  His  head — that  was  the 
afterglow  of  traditional  fancy.  Now,  however,  as  He 
leaves  the  wilderness,  He  goes  to  open  His  mission  at 
Cana,  where  He  works  His  first  miracle,  turning,  by  a 
look,  the  water  into  wine.  The  whole  Temptation,  as 
we  shall  see,  was  one  prolonged  attack  upon  His 
miraculous  power,  seeking  to  divert  it  into  unlawful 
channels ;  which  makes  it  more  than  probable  that  this 
power  was  first  consciously  received  at  the  baptism — 
the  second  baptism  of  fire ;  it  was  a  part  of  the  anoint- 
ing of  the  Lord  He  then  experienced. 

We  read  that  Jesus  now  was  "full  of  the  Holy 
Spirit."  It  is  an  expression  not  infrequent  in  the 
pages  of  the  New  Testament,  for  we  have  already  met 
with  it  in  connection  with  Zacharias  and  Elisabeth  ; 
and  St.  Luke  makes  use  of  it  several  times  in  his  later 
treatise  on  the  "Acts."  In  these  cases,  however,  it 
generally  marked  some  special  and  sudden  illumination 
or  inspiration,  which  was  more  or  less  temporary,  the 
inspiration  passing  away  when  its  purpose  was  served. 
But  whether  this  u  filling  of  the  Spirit "  was  temporary, 
or  permanent,  as  in  the  case  of  Stephen  and  Barnabas, 
the  expression  always  marked  the  highest  elevation  of 
human  life,  when  the  human  spirit  was  in  entire  subor- 
dination to  the  Divine.  To  Jesus,  now,  the  Holy 
Spirit  is  given  without  measure ;  and  we,  who  in  our 
far-off  experiences  can  recall  moments  of  Divine  bap- 
tisms, when  our  spirits  seemed  for  the  time  to  be 
caught  up  into  Paradise,  hearing  voices  and  beholding 
visions  we  might  not  utter,  even  we  may  understand  in 
part — though  but  in  part — what  must  have  been  the 
emotions  and  ecstasies  of  that  memorable  hour  by  the 
Jordan.     How  much  the  opened  neavens  would  mean 


THE  TEMPTATION.  109 

to  Him,  to  whom  they  had  been  so  long  and  strangely 
closed !  How  the  Voice  that  declared  His  heavenly 
Sonship,  "This  is  My  beloved  Son,"  must  have  sent 
its  vibrations  quivering  through  soul  and  spirit,  almost 
causing  the  tabernacle  of  His  flesh  to  tremble  with  the 
new  excitements  !  Mysterious  though  it  may  seem  to 
us,  who  ask  impotently,  How  can  these  things  be  ?  yet 
unless  we  strip  the  heavenly  baptism  of  all  reality, 
reducing  it  to  a  mere  play  of  words,  we  must  suppose 
that  Jesus,  who  now  becomes  Jesus  Christ,  was  hence- 
forth more  directly  and  completely  than  before  under 
the  conscious  inspiration  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  What 
was  an  atmosphere  enswathing  the  young  life,  bringing 
to  that  life  its  treasures  of  grace,  beauty,  and  strength, 
now  becomes  a  breath,  or  rather  a  rushing  wind,  of 
God,  carrying  that  life  forward  upon  its  mission  and 
upward  to  its  goal.  And  so  we  read,  He  "was  led 
by  the  Spirit  in  the  wilderness."  The  verb  generally 
implies  pressure,  constraint ;  it  is  the  enforced  leading 
of  the  weaker  by  the  stronger.  In  this  case,  however, 
the  pressure  was  not  upon  a  resisting,  but  a  yielding 
medium.  The  will  of  Jesus  swung  round  instantly 
and  easily,  moving  like  a  vane  only  in  the  direction  of 
the  Higher  Will.  The  narrative  would  imply  that  His 
own  thought  and  purpose  had  been  to  return  to  Galilee  ; 
but  the  Divine  Spirit  moves  upon  Him  with  such 
clearness  and  force— "  driveth  "  is  St.  Mark's  expres- 
sive word — that  He  yields  Himself  up  to  the  higher 
impulse,  and  allows  Himself  to  be  carried,  not  exactly 
as  the  heath  is  swept  before  the  wind,  but  in  a  passive- 
active  wTay,  into  the  wilderness.  The  wilderness  was 
thus  a  Divine  interjection,  thrown  across  the  path  of 
the  Son  of  God  and  Son  of  man. 

Where  it  was  is  a  point  of  no  great  moment.     That 


no  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

it  was  in  the  Desert  of  Sinai,  as  some  suppose,  is  most 
unlikely.  Jesus  did  not  so  venerate  places ;  nor  was 
it  like  Him  to  make  distant  excursions  to  put  Himself 
in  the  track  of  Moses  or  Elijah.  He  beckons  them  to 
Him.  He  does  not  go  to  them,  not  even  to  make 
historical  repetitions.  There  is.no  reason  why  we  may 
not  accept  the  traditional  site  of  the  Quarantania,  the 
wild,  mountainous  region,  intersected  by  deep,  dark 
gorges,  that  sweeps  westward  from  Jericho.  It  is 
enough  to  know  that  it  was  a  wilderness  indeed,  a 
wildness,  unsoftened  by  the  touch  of  human  strength 
or  skill ;  a  still,  vacant  solitude,  where  only  the  "  wild 
beasts,"  preying  upon  each  other,  or  prowling  outward 
to  the  fringe  of  civilization,  could  survive. 

In  the  narrative  of  the  Transfiguration  we  read  that 
Moses  and  Elias  appeared  on  the  holy  mount  "  talking 
with  Jesus ; "  and  that  these  two  only,  of  all  departed 
saints,  should  be  allowed  that  privilege — the  one  repre- 
senting the  Law,  and  the  other  the  Prophets — shows 
that  there  was  some  intimate  connection  between  their 
several  missions.  At  any  rate,  we  know  that  the 
emancipator  and  the  regenerator  of  Israel  were  speci- 
ally commissioned  to  bear  Heaven's  salutation  to  the 
Redeemer.  It  would  be  an  interesting  study,  did  it 
lie  within  the  scope  of  our  subject,  to  trace  out  the 
many  resemblances  between  the  three.  We  may,  how- 
ever, notice  how  in  the  three  lives  the  same  prolonged 
fast  occurs,  in  each  case  covering  the  same  period  of 
forty  days ;  for  though  the  expression  of  St.  Matthew 
would  not  of  necessity  imply  a  total  abstention  from 
food,  the  more  concise  statement  of  St.  Luke  removes 
all  doubt,  for  we  read,  "  He  did  eat  nothing  in  those 
days."  Why  there  should  be  this  fast  is  more  difficult 
to   answer,    and   our   so-called    reasons    can    be   only 


THE   TEMPTATION.  in 

guesses.  We  know,  however,  that  the  flesh  and  the 
spirit,  though  closely  associated,  have  but  few  things 
in  common.  Like  the  centripetal  and  the  centrifugal 
forces  in  nature,  their  tendencies  and  propulsions  are 
in  different  and  opposite  directions.  The  one  looks 
earthward,  the  other  heavenward.  Let  the  flesh  prevail, 
and  the  life  gravitates  downwards,  the  sensual  takes 
the  place  of  the  spiritual.  Let  the  flesh  be  placed 
under  restraint  and  control,  taught  its  subordinate 
position,  and  there  is  a  general  uplift  to  the  life,  the 
untrammelled  spirit  moving  upwards  toward  heaven 
and  God.  And  so  in  the  Scriptures  we  find  the  duty 
of  fasting  prescribed;  and  though  the  Rabbis  have 
treated  it  in  an  ad  absiirdum  fashion,  bringing  it  into 
disrepute,  still  the  duty  has  not  ceased,  though  the 
practice  may  be  well-nigh  obsolete.  And  so  we  find 
in  Apostolic  days  that  prayer  was  often  joined  to  fast- 
ing, especially  when  a  question  of  importance  was  under 
consideration.  The  hours  of  fasting,  too,  as  we  may 
learn  from  the  cases  of  the  centurion  and  of  Peter, 
were  the  perihelion  of  the  Christian  life,  when  it  swung 
up  in  its  nearest  approaches  to  heaven,  getting  amid 
the  circles  of  the  angels  and  of  celestial  visions. 
Possibly  in  the  case  before  us  there  was  such  an 
absorption  of  spirit,  such  rapture  (using  the  word  in  its 
etymological,  rather  than  in  its  derived  meaning),  that 
the  claims  of  the  body  were  utterly  forgotten,  and  its 
ordinary  functions  were  temporarily  suspended;  for 
to  the  spirit  caught  up  into  Paradise  it  matters  little 
whether  in  the  body  or  out  of  it. 

Then,  too,  the  fast  was  closely  related  to  the  tempta- 
tion ;  it  was  the  preparation  for  it.  If  Jesus  is  tempted 
as  the  Son  of  man,  it  must  be  our  humanity,  not  at 
its  strongest,  but  at  its  weakest.     It  must  be  under 


iia  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE, 

conditions  so  hard,  no  other  man  could  have  them 
harder.  As  an  athlete,  before  the  contest,  trains  up  his 
body,  bringing  each  muscle  and  nerve  to  its  very  best, 
so  Jesus,  before  meeting  the  great  adversary  in  single 
combat,  trains  down  His  body,  reducing  its  physical 
strength,  until  it  touches  the  lowest  point  of  human 
weakness.  And  so,  fighting  the  battle  of  humanity, 
He  gives  the  adversary  every  advantage.  He  allows 
him  choice  of  place,  of  time,  of  weapons  and  conditions, 
so  that  His  victory  may  be  more  complete.  Alone  in 
the  wild,  dreary  solitude,  cut  off  from  all  human 
sympathies,  weak  and  emaciated  with  the  long  fast, 
the  Second  Adam  waits  the  attack  of  the  tempter,  who 
found  the  first  Adam  too  easy  a  prey. 

2.  The  nature  of  the  Temptation.  In  what  form  the 
tempter  came  to  Him,  or  whether  he  came  in  any  form 
at  all,  we  cannot  tell.  Scripture  observes  a  prudent 
silence,  a  silence  which  has  been  made  the  occasion  of 
much  speculative  and  random  speech  on  the  part  of 
its  would-be  interpreters.  It  will  serve  no  good  purpose 
even  to  enumerate  the  different  forms  the  tempter  is 
said  to  have  assumed ;  for  what  need  can  there  be  for 
any  incarnation  of  the  evil  spirit?  and  why  clamour 
for  the  supernatural  when  the  natural  will  suffice  ?  If 
Jesus  was  tempted  "  as  we  are,"  will  not  our  experiences 
throw  the  truest  light  on  His?  We  see  no  shape. 
The  evil  one  confronts  us;  he  presents  thoughts  to 
our  minds ;  he  injects  some  proud  or  evil  imagination ; 
but  he  himself  is  masked,  unseen,  even  when  we  are 
distinctly  conscious  of  his  presence.  Just  so  we  may 
suppose  the  tempter  came  to  Him.  Recalling  the 
declaration  made  at  the  baptism,  the  announcement  of 
His  Divine  Sonship,  the  devil  says,  "If"  (or  rather 
"Since,"   for   the   tempter  is   too  wary  to  suggest  a 


THE   TEMPTATION.  113 


doubt  as  to  His  relationship  with  God)  "Thou  art  the 
Son  of  God,  command  this  stone  that  it  become  bread.' 
It  is  as  if  he  said,  "You  are  a-hungered,  exhausted, 
Your  strength  worn  away  by  Your  long  fast.  This 
desert,  as  You  see,  is  wild  and  sterile ;  it  can  offer  You 
nothing  with  which  to  supply  Your  physical  wants ; 
but  You  have  the  remedy  in  Your  own  hands.  The 
heavenly  Voice  proclaimed  You  as  God's  Son — nay,  His 
beloved  Son.  You  were  invested,  too,  not  simply  with 
Divine  dignities,  but  with  Divine  powers,  with  authority, 
supreme  and  absolute,  over  all  creatures.  Make  use 
now  of  this  newly  given  power.  Speak  in  these  newly 
learned  tones  of  Divine  authority,  and  command  this 
stone  that  it  become  bread."  Such  was  the  thought 
suddenly  suggested  to  the  mind  of  Jesus,  and  which 
would  have  found  a  ready  response  from  the  shrinking 
flesh,  had  it  been  allowed  to  speak.  And  was  not  the 
thought  fair  and  reasonable,  to  our  thinking,  all  innocent 
of  wrong  ?  Suppose  Jesus  should  command  the  stone 
into  bread,  is  it  any  more  marvellous  than  commanding 
the  water  into  wine?  Is  not  all  bread  stone,  dead 
earth  transformed  by  the  touch  of  life  ?  If  Jesus  can 
make  use  of  His  miraculous  power  for  the  benefit  of 
others,  why  should  He  not  use  it  in  the  emergencies 
of  His  own  life  ?  The  thought  seemed  reasonable  and 
specious  enough ;  and  at  first  glance  we  do  not  see 
how  the  wings  of  this  dove  are  tipped,  not  with  silver, 
but  with  soot  from  the  "  pots."  But  stop.  What  does 
this  thought  of  Satan  mean?  Is  it  as  guileless  and 
guiltless  as  it  seems?  Not  quite;  for  it  means  that 
Jesus  shall  be  no  longer  the  Son  of  man.  Hitherto 
His  life  has  been  a  purely  human  life.  "  Made  in  all 
things  like  unto  His  brethren,"  from  His  helpless 
infancy,  through  the  gleefulness  of  childhood,  the  dis- 

8 


114  THE   GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

cipline  of  youth,  and  the  toil  of  manhood,  His  life 
has  been  nourished  from  purely  human  sources.  His 
"brocks  in  the  way"  have  been  no  secret  springs, 
flowing  for  Himself  alone ;  they  have  been  the  common 
brooks,  open  and  free  to  all,  and  where  any  other  child 
of  man  might  drink.  But  now  Satan  tempts  Him  to 
break  with  the  past,  to  throw  up  His  Son-of-manhood, 
and  to  fall  back  upon  His  miraculous  power  in  this, 
and  so  in  every  other  emergency  of  life.  Had  Satan 
succeeded,  and  had  Jesus  wrought  this  miracle  for 
Himself,  putting  around  His  human  nature  the  shield 
of  His  Divinity,  then  Jesus  would  have  ceased  to  be 
man.  He  would  have  forsaken  the  plane  of  human 
life  for  celestial  altitudes,  with  a  wide  gulf — and  oh,  how 
wide !— between  Himself  and  those  He  had  come  to 
redeem.  And  let  the  perfect  humanity  go,  and  the 
redemption  goes  with  it;  for  if  Jesus,  just  by  an  appeal 
to  His  miraculous  power,  can  surmount  every  difficulty, 
escape  any  danger,  then  you  leave  no  room  for  the 
Passion,  and  no  ground  on  which  the  cross  may  rest. 
Again,  the  suggestion  of  Satan  was  a  temptation  to 
distrust.  The  emphasis  lay  upon  the  title,  "  Son  of 
God."  "The  Voice  proclaimed  You,  in  a  peculiar 
sense,  the  beloved  Son  of  God ;  but  where  have  been 
the  marks  of  that  special  love  ?  Where  are  the  honours, 
the  heritage  of  joy,  the  Son  should  have  ?  Instead  of 
that,  He  gives  You  a  wilderness  of  solitude  and  priva- 
tion ;  and  He  who  rained  manna  upon  Israel,  and  who 
sent  an  angel  to  prepare  a  cake  for  Eiias,  leaves  You  to 
pine  and  hunger.  Why  wait  longer  for  help  which 
has  already  tarried  too  long  ?  Act  now  for  Yourself. 
Your  resources  are  ample  ;  use  them  in  commanding 
this  stone  into  bread."  Such  was  the  drift  of  the 
tempter's   words ;   it   was    to   make   Jesus   doubt   the 


THE   TEMPTATION.  115 


Father's  love  and  care,  to  lead  Him  to  act,  not  in 
opposition  to,  but  independently  of,  the  Father's  will. 
It  was  an  artful  endeavour  to  throw  the  will  of  Jesus 
out  of  gear  with  the  Higher  Will,  and  to  set  it  revolving 
around  its  own  self-centre.  It  was,  in  reality,  the  same 
temptation,  in  a  slightly  altered  form,  which  had  been 
only  too  successful  with  the  first  Adam. 

The  thought,  however,  was  no  sooner  suggested  than 
it  was  rejected  ;  for  Jesus  had  a  wonderful  power  of 
reading  thought,  of  looking  into  its  very  heart;  and 
He  meets  the  evil  suggestion,  not  with  an  answer  of 
His  own,  but  with  a  singularly  apt  quotation  from  the 
Old  Testament :  "  It  is  written,  Man  shall  not  live  by 
bread  alone."  The  reference  is  to  a  parallel  experience 
in  the  history  of  Israel,  a  narrative  from  which  doubt- 
less Jesus  had  drawn  both  strength  and  solace  during 
His  prolonged  desert  fast.  Had  not  the  Divine  Voice 
adopted  Israel  to  a  special  relationship  and  privilege, 
announcing  within  the  palace  of  Pharaoh,  "  Israel  is  My 
Son,  My  firstborn  "  ?  (Exod.  iv.  22).  And  yet  had  not 
God  led  Israel  for  forty  years  through  the  desert, 
suffering  him  to  hunger,  that  He  might  humble  and 
prove  him,  and  show  him  that  men  are 

"Better  than  sheep  and  goats, 
That  nourish  a  blind  life  within  the  brain  ;* 

that  man  has  a  nature,  a  life,  that  cannot  live  on  bread, 
but — as  St.  Matthew  completes  the  quotation — "by 
every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the  mouth  of  God  "  ? 
Seme  have  supposed  that  by  u  bread  alone  "  Jesus 
refers  to  the  manifold  provision  God  has  made  for  man's 
physical  sustenance ;  that  He  is  not  limited  to  one 
course,  but  that  He  can  just  as  easily  supply  flesh,  or 
manna,  or  a  thousand  things  besides.     But  evidently 


n6  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

such  is  not  the  meaning  of  Jesus.  It  was  not  His 
wont  to  speak  in  such  literal,  commonplace  ways.  His 
thought  moved  in  higher  circles  than  His  speech,  and 
we  must  look  upward  through  the  letter  to  find  the 
higher  spirit.  M I  have  meat  to  eat  that  ye  know  not 
of,"  said  Jesus  to  His  disciples  ;  and  when  He  caught 
the  undertone  of  their  literalistic  questions  He  explained 
His  meaning  in  words  that  will  interpret  His  answer  to 
the  tempter :  "  My  meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  Him  that 
sent  Me."  So  now  it  is  as  if  He  said,  "  The  Will  of 
God  is  My  meat.  That  Will  brought  Me  hither ;  that 
Will  detains  Me  here.  Nay,  that  Will  commands  Me  to 
fast  and  hunger,  and  so  abstinence  from  food  is  itself 
My  food.  I  do  not  fear.  This  wilderness  is  but  the 
stone-paved  court  of  My  Father's  house,  whose  many 
chambers  are  filled  with  treasures,  '  bread  enough  and 
to  spare/  and  can  I  perish  with  hunger  ?  I  wait  His 
time ;  I  accept  His  will ;  nor  will  I  taste  of  bread  that  is 
not  of  His  sending." 

The  tempter  was  foiled.  The  specious  temptation 
fell  upon  the  mind  of  Jesus  like  a  spark  in  the  sea,  to 
be  quenched,  instantly  and  utterly;  and  though  Satan 
found  a  powerful  lever  in  the  pinch  of  the  terrible 
hunger — one  of  the  sorest  pains  our  human  nature  can 
feel — yet  even  then  he  could  not  wrench  the  will  of 
Jesus  from  the  will  of  God.  The  first  Adam  doubted, 
and  then  disobeyed ;  the  Second  Adam  rests  in  God's 
will  and  word ;  and  like  the  limpet  on  the  rocks,  washed 
by  angry  waves,  the  pressure  of  the  outward  storm  only 
unites  His  will  more  firmly  to  the  Father's ;  nor  does  it 
for  one  moment  break  in  upon  that  rest  of  soul.  And 
Jesus  never  did  make  use  of  His  miraculous  power 
solely  for  His  own  benefit.  He  would  live  as  a  man 
among  men,  feeling — probably  more  intensely  than  we 


THE   TEMPTATION.  1 17 

do — all  the  weaknesses  and  pains  of  humanity,  that  He 
might  be  more  truly  the  Son  of  man,  the  sympathizing 
High  Priest,  the  perfect  Saviour.  He  became  in  all 
points — sin  excepted — one  with  us,  so  that  we  might 
become  one  with  Him,  sharing  with  Him  the  Father's 
love  on  earth,  and  then  sharing  His  heavenly  joys. 

Baffled,  but  not  confessing  himself  beaten,  the  temp- 
ter returns  to  the  charge.  St.  Luke  here  inverts  the 
order  of  St.  Matthew,  giving  as  the  second  tempta- 
tion what  St.  Matthew  places  last.  We  prefer  the 
order  of  St.  Luke,  not  only  because  in  general  he  is 
more  observant  of  chronology,  but  because  there  is  in 
the  three  temptations  what  we  might  call  a  certain 
seriality,  which  demands  the  second  place  for  the 
mountain  temptation.  It  is  not  necessary  that  we  put 
a  literal  stress  upon  the  narrative,  supposing  that  Jesus 
was  transported  bodily  to  the  "  exceeding  high  moun- 
tain." Not  only  has  such  a  supposition  an  air  of  the 
incredulous  about  it,  but  it  is  set  aside  by  the  terms  of 
the  narrative  itself;  for  the  expression  he  "showed 
Him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  in  a  moment  of 
time "  cannot  be  forced  into  a  literalistic  mould.  It 
is  easier  and  more  natural  to  suppose  that  this  and 
the  succeeding  temptation  were  presented  only  to  the 
spirit  of  Jesus,  without  any  physical  accessories;  for 
after  all,  it  is  not  the  eye  that  sees,  but  the  soul.  The 
bodily  eye  had  not  seen  the  "  great  sheet  let  down  from 
heaven,"  but  it  was  a  real  vision,  nevertheless,  leading 
to  very  practical  results — the  readjustment  of  Peter's 
views  of  duty,  and  the  opening  of  the  door  of  grace  and 
privilege  to  the  Gentiles.  It  was  but  a  mental  picture, 
as  the  "man  of  Macedonia"  appeared  to  Paul,  but 
the  vision  was  intensely  real — more  real,  if  that  were 
possible,   than   the   leagues   of  intervening  sea;   and 


n8  THE   GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

louder  to  him  than  all  the  voices  of  the  deep — of  winds, 
and  waves,  and  storm — was  the  voice,  u  Come  over  and 
help  us,"  the  cry  which  only  the  ear  of  the  soul  had 
heard.  It  was  in  a  similar  manner,  probably,  that  the 
second  temptation  was  presented  to  Jesus. 

He  finds  Himself  upon  a  lofty  eminence,  when 
suddenly,  "  in  a  moment  of  time,"  as  St.  Luke  ex- 
presses it,  the  world  lies  unveiled  at  His  feet.  Here 
are  fields  white  with  ripened  harvests,  vineyards  red 
with  clustering  grapes,  groves  of  olives  shimmering  in 
the  sunlight  like  frosted  silver,  rivers  threading  their 
w7ay  through  a  sea  of  green  ;  here  are  cities  on  cities 
innumerable,  quivering  with  the  tread  of  uncounted 
millions,  streets  set  with  statues,  and  adorned  with 
temples,  palaces,  and  parks ;  here  are  the  flagged  Roman 
roads,  all  pointing  to  the  woild's  great  centre,  thronged 
with  chariots  and  horsemen,  the  legions  of  war,  and 
the  caravans  of  trade.  Beyond  are  seas  where  a  thou- 
sand ships  are  skimming  over  the  blue;  while  still 
beyond,  all  environed  with  temples,  is  the  palace  of 
the  Caesars,  the  marble  pivot  around  which  the  world 
revolves. 

Such  was  the  splendid  scene  set  beiore  the  mind  of 
Jesus.  "All  this  is  mine,"  said  Satan,  speaking  a  half- 
truth  which  is  often  but  a  whole  lie ;  for  he  was  indeed 
the  "  prince  of  the  power  of  the  air,"  ruling,  however, 
not  in  absolute  kingship,  but  as  a  pretender,  a  usurper ; 
"and  I  give  it  to  whom  I  will.  Only  worship  me  (or 
rather,  'do  homage  to  me  as  Your  superior'),  and  all 
shall  be  thine."  Amplified,  the  temptation  was  this : 
"You  are  the  Son  of  God,  the  Messiah- King,  but  a 
King  without  a  retinue,  without  a  throne.  I  know  well 
all  the  devious,  somewhat  slippery  ways  to  royalty ;  and 
if  You  will  but  assent  to  my  plan,  and  work  on  my  lines, 


THE   TEMPTATION.  119 


I  can  assure  You  of  a  throne  that  is  higher,  and  of  a 
realm  that  is  vaster,  than  that  of  Caesar.  To  begin 
with :  You  have  powers  not  given  to  other  mortals, 
miraculous  powers.  You  can  command  nature  as  easily 
as  You  can  obey  her.  Trade  with  these  at  first,  freely. 
Startle  men  with  prodigies,  and  so  create  a  name  and 
gain  a  following.  Then  when  that  is  sufficiently  large 
set  up  the  standard  of  revolt.  The  priesthood  and  the 
people  will  flock  to  it ;  Pharisees  and  Sadducees,  giving 
up  their  paper-chases  after  phantoms,  shadows,  will 
forget  their  strife  in  the  peace  of  a  common  war,  and 
before  a  united  people  Rome's  legions  must  retire. 
Then,  pushing  out  Your  borders,  and  avoiding  reverse 
and  disaster  by  a  continual  appeal  to  Your  miraculous 
powers,  one  after  another  You  will  make  the  neigh- 
bouring nations  dependent  and  tributary.  So,  little  by 
little,  You  will  hem  in  the  might  of  Rome,  until  by  one 
desperate  struggle  You  will  vanquish  the  Empire.  The 
lines  of  history  will  then  be  all  reversed.  Jerusalem 
will  become  the  mistress,  the  capital  of  the  world ; 
along  all  these  roads  swift  messengers  shall  carry  Your 
decrees ;  Your  word  shall  be  law,  and  Your  will  over 
all  human  wills  shall  be  supreme." 

Such  was  the  meaning  of  the  second  temptation. 
It  was  the  chord  of  ambition  Satan  sought  to  strike, 
a  chord  whose  vibrations  are  so  powerful  in  the  human 
heart,  often  drowning  or  deafening  other  and  sweeter 
voices.  He  put  before  Jesus  the  highest  possible  goal, 
that  of  universal  empire,  and  showed  how  that  goal 
was  comparatively  easy  of  attainment,  if  Jesus  would 
only  follow  his  directions  and  work  on  his  plans.  The 
objective  point  at  which  the  tempter  aimed  was,  as 
in  the  first  temptation,  to  shift  Jesus  from  the  Divine 
purpose,   to  detach  His   will    from   the   Father's  will, 


120  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.   LUKE. 

and  to  induce  Him  to  set  up  a  sort  of  independence. 
The  life  of  Jesus,  instead  of  moving  on  steadily  around 
its  Divine  centre,  striking  in  with  absolute  precision 
to  the  beat  of  the  Divine  purpose,  should  revolve  only 
around  the  centre  of  its  narrower  self,  exchanging 
its  grander,  heavenlier  sweep  for  certain  intermittent, 
eccentric  motions  of  its  own.  If  Satan  could  not  pre- 
vent the  founding  of  "the  kingdom,"  he  would,  if  it 
were  possible,  change  its  character.  It  should  not  be 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  but  a  kingdom  of  earth,  pure 
and  simple,  under  earthly  conditions  and  earthly  laws. 
Might  should  take  the  place  of  right,  and  force  the 
place  of  love.  He  would  set  Jesus  after  gaining  the 
whole  world,  that  so  He  might  forget  that  His  mission 
was  to  save  it.  Instead  of  a  Saviour,  they  should 
have  a  Sovereign,  decked  with  this  world's  glory  and 
the  pomps  of  earthly  empire. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  if  Jesus  had  been  merely  man 
the  temptation  would  have  been  most  subtle  and  most 
powerful ;  for  how  many  of  the  sons  of  men,  alas, 
have  been  led  astray  from  the  Divine  purpose  with  a 
far  less  bait  than  a  whole  world  !  A  momentary 
pleasure,  a  handful  of  glittering  dust  the  more,  some 
dream  of  place  or  fame — these  are  more  than  enough 
to  tempt  men  to  break  with  God.  But  while  Jesus  was 
man,  the  Perfect  Man,  He  was  more.  The  Holy  Spirit 
was  now  given  to  Him  without  measure.  From  the 
beginning  His  will  had  been  subordinate  to  the  Father's, 
growing  up  within  it  and  configuring  itself  to  it,  even 
as  the  ductile  metal  receives  the  shape  of  the  mould. 
The  Divine  purpose,  too,  had  now  been  revealed  to 
Him  in  the  vivid  enlightenment  of  the  Baptism  ;  for  the 
shadow  of  the  crosi  was  thrown  back  over  His  life, 
at  any  rate  as  far  as  the  Jordan.     And  so  the  second 


THE   TEMPTATION.  12 1 

temptation  fell  harmless  as  the  first.  The  chord  of 
ambition  Satan  sought  to  strike  was  not  found  in 
the  pure  soul  of  Jesus,  and  all  these  visions  of  victory 
and  empire  awoke  no  response  in  His  heart,  any  more 
than  the  flower-wreaths  laid  upon  the  breast  of  the 
dead  can  quicken  the  beat  of  the  now  silent  heart. 

The  answer  of  Jesus  was  prompt  and  decisive.  Not 
deigning  to  use  any  words  of  His  own,  or  to  hold  any 
parley,  even  the  shortest,  He  meets  the  word  of  the 
tempter  with  a  Divine  word  :  "  It  is  written,  Thou 
shalt  worship  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  Him  only  shalt 
thou  serve."  The  tempting  thought  is  something 
foreign  to  the  mind  of  Jesus,  something  unwelcome, 
repulsive,  and  it  is  rejected  instantly.  Instead  of 
allowing  Himself  to  be  diverted  from  the  Divine 
purpose,  His  will  detached  from  the  Father's  will,  He 
turns  to  that  will  and  word  at  once.  It  is  His  refuge, 
His  home.  The  thought  of  Jesus  cannot  pass  beyond 
the  circle  of  that  will,  any  more  than  a  dove  can  pass 
beyond  the  over-arching  sky.  He  sees  the  Throne 
that  is  above  all  thrones,  and  gazing  upon  that,  worship- 
ping only  the  Great  King,  who  is  over  all  and  in  all, 
the  thrones  and  crowns  of  earthly  dominion  are  but  as 
motes  of  the  air.  The  victory  was  complete.  Quickly 
as  it  came,  the  splendid  vision  conjured  up  by  the 
tempter  disappeared,  and  Jesus  turned  away  from  the 
path  of  earthly  glory,  where  power  without  measure 
and  honours  without  number  awaited  Him,  to  tread 
the  solitary,  lowly  path  of  submission  and  of  sacrifice, 
the  path  that  had  a  crucifixion,  and  not  a  coronation 
as  its  goal. 

Twice  baffled,  the  enemy  comes  once  again  to  the 
charge,  completing  the  series  with  the  pinnacle  temp- 
tation, to  which  St.  Luke  naturally,  and  as  we  think 


122  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.   LUKE. 

rightly,  gives  the  third  place.  It  follows  the  other 
two  in  orderly  sequence,  and  it  cannot  well  be  placed 
second,  as  in  St.  Matthew,  without  a  certain  over- 
lapping of  thought.  If  we  must  adhere  to  the  litera- 
listic  interpretation,  and  suppose  Jesus  led  up  to 
Jerusalem  bodily,  then,  perhaps,  St.  Matthew's  order 
would  be  more  natural,  as  that  would  not  necessitate 
a  return  to  the  wilderness.  But  that  is  an  interpreta- 
tion to  which  we  are  not  bound.  Neither  the  words 
of  the  narrative  nor  the  conditions  of  the  temptation 
require  it ;  an  d  when  art  represents  Jesus  as  flying 
with  the  tempter  through  the  air  it  is  a  representation 
both  grotesque  and  gratuitous.  Thus  far,  in  his  ttmpta- 
tions,  Satan  has  been  foiled  by  the  faith  of  Jesus,  the 
implicit  trust  He  reposed  in  the  Father ;  but  if  he 
cannot  break  in  upon  that  trust,  causing  it  to  doubt 
or  disobey,  may  he  not  push  the  virtue  too  far,  goading 
Him  "  to  sin  in  loving  virtue "  ?  If  the  mind  and 
heart  of  Jesus  are  so  grooved  in  with  the  lines  of  the 
Divine  will  that  he  cannot  throw  them  off  the  metals, 
or  make  them  reverse  their  wheels,  perhaps  he  may 
push  them  forward  so  fast  and  so  far  as  to  bring  about 
the  collision  he  seeks — the  clash  of  the  two  wills.  It 
is  the  only  chance  left  him,  a  forlorn  hope,  it  is  true, 
but  still  a  hope,  and  Satan  moves  forward,  if  per- 
chance he  may  realize  it. 

As  in  the  second  temptation,  the  wilderness  fades 
out  of  sight.  Suddenly  Jesus  finds  Himself  standing 
on  the  pinnacle  of  the  Temple,  probably  the  eastern 
corner  of  the  royal  portico.  On  the  one  side,  deep 
below,  were  the  Temple  courts,  crowded  with  throngs 
of  worshippers;  on  the  other  lay  the  gorge  of  the 
Kedron,  a  giddy  depth,  which  made  the  eye  of  the 
down  looker  to  swim,  and  the  brain  to  reel.     a  If  (or 


THE   TEMPTATION.  123 

rather  '  Since ')  said  Satan,  Thou  art  the  Son  of  God, 
cast  Thyself  down  from  hence ;  for  it  is  written,  Ke 
shall  give  His  angels  charge  concerning  Thee,  to  guard 
Thee ;  on  their  hands  they  shall  bear  Thee  up,  lest 
haply  Thou  dash  Thy  foot  against  a  stone."  It  is  as 
if  he  said,  "You  are  the  Son  of  God,  in  a  special, 
favoured  sense.  You  are  set  in  title  and  authority 
above  the  angels  ;  they  are  Your  ministering  servants ; 
and  You  reciprocate  the  trust  Heaven  reposes  in  You. 
The  will  of  God  is  more  to  You  than  life  itself ;  the 
word  of  God  outweighs  with  You  thrones  and  empires. 
And  Ycu  do  well.  Continue  thus,  and  no  harm  can 
overtake  You.  And  just  to  show  how  absolute  is  Your 
faith  in  God,  cast  Yourself  down  from  this  height.  You 
need  not  fear,  for  You  will  but  throw  Yourself  upon 
the  word  of  God ;  and  You  have  only  to  speak,  and 
unseen  angels  will  crowd  the  air,  bearing  You  up  in 
their  hands.  Cast  Yourself  down,  and  so  test  and 
attest  Your  faith  in  God  ;  and  doing  so  You  will  give 
to  these  multitudes  indubitable  proof  of  Your  Sonship 
and  Messiahship."  Such  was  the  argument,  specious, 
but  fallacious,  of  the  tempter.  Misquoting  Scripture  by 
omitting  its  qualifying  clause,  distorting  the  truth  into 
a  dangerous  error,  he  sought  to  impale  his  Victim  on 
the  horn  of  a  dilemma.  But  Jesus  was  on  the  alert. 
He  recognized  at  once  the  seductive  thought,  though, 
Jacob-like,  it  had  come  robed  in  the  assumed  dress  of 
Scripture.  Is  not  obedience  as  sacred  as  trust?  Is 
not  obedience  the  life,  the  soul  of  trust,  without  which 
the  trust  itself  is  but  a  semblance,  a  decaying,  corrupt 
thing  ?  But  Satan  asks  Him  to  disobey,  to  set  Him- 
self above  the  laws  by  which  the  world  is  governed. 
Instead  of  His  will  being  entirely  subordinate,  conform- 
ing itself  in  all  things  to  the  Divine  will,  if  He  should 


124  THE   GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

cast  Himself  down  from  this  pinnacle  it  would  be 
putting  pressure  upon  thai  Divine  will,  forcing  it  to 
repeal  its  own  physical  laws,  or  al  any  rate  to  suspend 
their  action  for  a  time.  And  what  would  that  be  but 
insubordination,  no  longer  faith,  but  presumption,  a 
tempting,  and  not  a  trusting  God  ?  The  Divine 
promises  are  not  cheques  made  payable  to  "  bearer," 
regardless  of  character,  place,  or  time,  and  to  be  realized 
by  any  one  who  may  happen  to  possess  himself  of  them, 
anywhere.  They  are  cheques  drawn  out  to  "  order," 
crossed  cheques,  too,  negotiated  only  as  the  conditions 
of  character  and  time  are  fulfilled.  The  Divine  protec- 
tion and  guardianship  are  indeed  assured  to  every  child 
of  God,  but  only  as  he  "  dwelleth  in  the  secret  place 
of  the  Most  High,  as  he  abides  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Almighty ; "  in  other  words,  so  long  as  "  thy  ways  " 
are  "  His  ways."  Step  out  from  that  pavilion  of  the 
Most  High,  and  you  step  from  under  the  bright  bow 
cf  promise.  Put  yourself  above,  or  put  yourself  out 
of,  the  Divine  order  of  things,  and  the  very  promise 
becomes  a  threatening,  and  the  cloud  that  else  would 
protect  and  guide  becomes  a  cloud  full  of  suppressed 
thunders,  and  flashing  in  vivid  lightnings  its  thousand 
swords  of  flame.  Faith  and  fidelity  are  thus  insepa- 
rable. The  one  is  the  calyx,  the  other  the  involved 
corolla;  and  as  they  open  outwards  into  the  perfect 
flower  they  turn  towards  the  Divine  will,  configuring 
themselves  in  all  things  to  that  will. 

A  third  time  Jesus  replied  to  the  tempter  in 
words  of  Old  Testament  Scripture,  and  a  third  time, 
too,  from  the  same  book  of  Deuteronomy.  It  will  be 
observed,  however,  that  the  terms  of  His  reply  are 
slightly  altered.  He  no  longer  uses  the  "  It  is  written," 
since  Satan  himself  has  borrowed  that  word,  but  sub- 


THE  TEMPTATION.  125 


stitutes  another :  "  It  is  said,  Thou  shalt  not  tempt  the 
Lord  thy  God."  It  has  been  thought  by  some  that 
Jesus  used  the  quotation  in  an  accommodated  sense, 
referring  the  "Thou"  to  the  tempter  himself,  and  so 
making  "the  Lord  thy  God"  an  attestation  of  His  own 
Divinity.  But  such  an  interpretation  is  forced  and 
unnatural.  Jesus  would  not  be  likely  to  hide  the  deep 
secret  from  His  own  disciples,  and  announce  it  for  the 
first  time  to  the  ears  of  the  seducer.  It  is  an  impos- 
sible supposition.  Besides,  too,  it  was  as  man  that 
Jesus  was  tempted.  Only  on  the  side  of  His  humanity 
could  the  enemy  approach  Him,  and  for  Jesus  now  to 
take  refuge  in  His  Divinity  would  strip  the  temptation 
of  all  its  meaning,  making  it  a  mere  acting.  But  Jesus 
does  not  so  throw  up  humanity,  or  which  is  the  same 
thing,  take  Himself  out  of  it,  and  when  He  says, 
"  Thou  shalt  not  tempt  the  Lord  thy  God  "  He  includes 
Himself  in  the  "  thou."  Son  though  He  is,  He  must 
put  Himself  under  the  law  that  prescribes  the  relations 
of  man  towards  God.  He  must  learn  obedience  as 
other  sons  of  men.  He  must  submit,  that  He  may 
serve,  not  seeking  to  impose  His  will  upon  the  Father's 
will,  even  by  way  of  suggestion,  much  less  by  way  of 
demand,  but  waiting  upon  that  will  in  an  absolute 
self-surrender  and  instant  acquiescence.  Moses  must 
not  command  the  cloud  ;  all  that  he  is  permitted  to 
do  is  to  observe  it  and  follow.  To  go  before  God  is 
to  go  without  God,  and  to  go  without  Him  is  to  go 
against  Him;  and  as  to  the  angels  bearing  Him  up  in 
their  hands,  that  depends  altogether  upon  the  path  and 
the  errand.  Let  it  be  the  Divinely  ordered  path,  and 
the  unseen  convoys  of  heaven  will  attend,  a  sleepless, 
invincible  guard ;  but  let  it  be  some  self-chosen  path, 
some  forbidden  way,  and  the  angel's  sword  will  flash 


126  THE  GQSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

its  warning,  and  send  the  foot  of  the  unfaithful  servant 
crushing  against  the  wall. 

And  so  the  third  temptation  failed,  as  did  the  other 
Lwo.  With  but  a  little  tension,  Satan  had  made  the  will 
}f  the  first  Adam  to  strike  a  discordant  note,  throwing 
it  out  of  all  harmony  with  the  Higher  Will ;  but  by  no 
pressure,  no  enticements,  can  he  influence  the  Second 
Adam.  His  will  vibrates  in  a  perfect  consonance  with 
the  Father's,  even  under  the  terrible  pressure  of 
hunger,  and  the  more  terrible  pressure,  the  fearful 
impact  of  evil. 

So  Satan  completed,  and  so  Jesus  resisted,  "  every 
temptation  " — that  is,  every  form  of  temptation.  In 
the  first,  Jesus  was  tempted  on  the  side  of  His  physical 
nature;  in  the  second  the  attack  was  on  the  side  of 
His  intellectual  nature,  looking  out  on  His  political 
life ;  while  in  the  third  the  assault  was  on  the  side  of 
His  spiritual  life.  In  the  first  He  is  tempted  as  the 
Man,  in  the  second  as  the  Messiah,  and  in  the  third  as 
the  Divine  Son.  In  the  first  temptation  He  is  asked 
to  make  use  of  His  newly  received  miraculous  power 
over  nature — passive,  unthinking  nature;  in  the  second 
He  is  asked  to  throw  it  over  the  "world,"  which  in 
this  case  is  a  synonym  for  humankind ;  while  in  the 
third  He  is  asked  to  widen  the  realm  of  His  authority, 
and  to  command  the  angels,  nay,  God  Himself.  So 
the  three  temptations  are  really  one,  though  the  fields 
of  battle  lie  in  three  several  planes.  And  the  aim  was 
one.  It  was  to  create  a  divergence  between  the  two 
wills,  and  to  set  the  Son  in  a  sort  of  antagonism  to  the 
Father,  which  would  have  been  another  Absalom  revolt, 
a  Divine  mutiny  it  is  impossible  for  us  even  to 
conceive. 

St.    Luke   omits   in   his   narrative   the   ministry  of 


THE  TEMPTATION.  127 

angels  mentioned  by  the  other  two  S}moptists,  a  sweet 
postlude  we  should  have  missed  much,  had  it  been 
wanting;  but  he  gives  us  instead  the  retreat  of  the 
adversary  :  u  He  departed  from  Him  for  a  season.'*' 
How  long  a  season  it  was  we  do  not  know,  but  a 
brief  one  it  must  have  been,  for  again  and  again  in 
the  story  of  the  Gospels  we  see  the  dark  shadow  of 
the  evil  one ;  while  in  Gethsemane  the  "  prince  of 
this  world"  cometh,  but  to  find  nothing  in  "Me." 
And  what  was  the  horror  of  great  darkness,  that 
strange  eclipse  of  soul  Jesus  suffered  upon  Calvary, 
but  the  same  fearful  presence,  intercepting  for  a  time 
even  the  Father's  smile,  and  throwing  upon  the  pure 
and  patient  Sufferer  a  strip  of  the  outer  darkness  itself? 
The  test  was  over.  Tried  in  the  fires  of  a  persistent 
assault,  the  faith  and  obedience  of  Jesus  were  found 
perfect.  The  shafts  of  the  tempter  had  recoiled  upon 
himself,  leaving  all  stainless  and  scatheless  the  pure 
soul  of  Jesus.  The  Son  of  man  had  conquered,  that 
all  other  sons  of  men  may  learn  the  secret  of  constant 
and  complete  victory;  how  faith  overcomes,  putting  to 
flight  "  the  armies  of  the  aliens,"  and  making  even  the 
weakest  child  of  God  "  more  than  conqueror."  And 
from  the  wilderness,  where  innocence  has  ripened  into 
virtue,  Jesus  passes  up,  like  another  Moses,  °  in  the 
power  of  the  Spirit,"  to  challenge  the  world's  magi- 
cians, to  baffle  their  sleight  of  hand  and  skill  of  speech, 
and  to  proclaim  to  redeemed  humanity  a  new  Exodus 
a  life-long  Jubilee. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 
THE  GOSPEL  OF  THE  JUBILEE. 

IMMEDIATELY  after  the  Temptation  Jesus  returned, 
"in  the  power  of  the  Spirit,"  and  with  all  the 
added  strength  of  His  recent  victories,  to  Galilee.  Into 
what  parts  of  Galilee  He  came,  our  Evangelist  does 
not  say;  but  omitting  the  visit  to  Cana,  and  dismissing 
the  first  Galilean  tour  with  a  sentence — how  "  He 
taught  in  their  synagogues,  being  glorified  of  all " — 
St.  Luke  goes  on  to  record  in  detail  the  visit  of  Jesus 
to  Nazareth,  and  His  rejection  by  His  townsmen.  In 
putting  this  narrative  in  the  forefront  of  his  Gospel  is 
St.  Luke  committing  a  chronological  error  ?  or  is  he, 
as  some  suppose,  purposely  antedating  the  Nazareth 
story,  that  it  may  stand  as  a  frontispiece  to  his  Gospel, 
or  that  it  may  serve  as  a  key  for  the  after-music? 
This  is  the  view  held  by  most  of  our  expositors  and 
harmonists,  but,  as  it  appears  to  us,  on  insufficient 
grounds  ;  the  balance  of  probability  is  against  it.  It 
is  true  that  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark  record  a  visit  o 
Nazareth  which  evidently  occurred  at  a  later  period  cf 
His  ministry.  It  is  true  also  that  between  their  narra- 
tives and  this  of  St.  Luke  there  are  some  striking 
resemblances,  such  as  the  teaching  in  the  synagogue 
the  astonishment  of  His  hearers,  their  reference  to  His 
parentage,  and  then  the  reply  of  Jesus  as  to  a  prophet 
receiving  scant  honour  in    his  own   country — resem- 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  THE  JUBILEE.  129 

blances  which   would  seem  to   indicate   that  the  two 
narratives  were  in  reality  one.     But  still  it  is  possible 
to  push  these  resemblances  too  far,  reading  out  from 
them  what  we  have  first  read  into  them.     Let  us  for 
the   moment   suppose  that  Jesus   made   two  visits  to 
Nazareth ;  and  is  not  such  a  supposition  both  reasonable 
and  natural  ?     It  is  not  necessary  that  the  first  rejection 
should  be  a  final  rejection,  for  did  not  the  Jews  seek 
again  and  again  to  kill  Him,  before  the  cross  saw  their 
dire    purpose   realised  ?      Remaining   for   so   long    in 
Galilee,   would  it  not  be  a  most  natural  wish  on  the 
part  of  Jesus  to  see  the  home  of  His  boyhood  once 
again,  and  to  give  to  His  townspeople  one  parting  word 
before  taking  His  farewell  of  Galilee  ?     And  suppose 
He  did,  what  then  ?     Would  He  not  naturally  go  to 
the  synagogue — as  was  His  custom  in  every  place — 
and  speak  ?     And  would  they  not  listen  with  the  same 
astonishment,  and  then  harp  on  the  very  same  questions 
as  to  His  parentage  and  brotherhood — questions  that 
would  have  their  readiest   and   fittest   answer  in   the 
same  familiar  proverb  ?     Instead,  then,  of  these  resem- 
blances identifying  the  two  narratives,  and  proving  that 
St.  Luke's  story  is  but  an  amplification  of  the  narratives 
of  the  other  Synoptists,  the  resemblances  themselves 
are  what  we  might  naturally  expect  in  our  supposition 
of  a  second  visit.     But  if  there  are  certain  coincidences 
between  the  two  narratives,  there  are  marked  differ- 
ences,  which   make   it  extremely  improbable  that  the 
Synoptists  are  recording  one  event.     In  the  visit  re- 
corded by  St.  Luke  there  were  no  miracles  wrought; 
while  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark  tell  us  that  He  could 
not   do   many  mighty  works   there,    because   of  their 
unbelief,  but  that  He  "  laid  His  hands  on  a  few  sick 
folk,  and  healed  them."     In  tfie  narrative  by  St.  Mark 

9 


no  THE   GOSPEL   GF  ST.  LUKE. 


we  read  that  His  disciples  were  with  Kim  while  St. 
Luke  makes  no  mention  of  His  disciples  ;  but  St.  Luke 
does  mention  the  tragic  ending  of  the  visit,  the  attempt 
of  the  men  of  Nazareth  to  hurl  Him  down  from  a  lofty 
cliff,  an  incident  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark  omit  alto- 
gether. But  can  we  suppose  the  men  of  Nazareth 
would  have  attempted  this,  had  the  strong  body-guard 
of  disciples  been  with  Jesus  ?  Would  they  be  likely 
to  stand  by,  timidly  acquiescent  ?  Would  not  Peter's 
swrord  have  flashed  instantly  from  its  scabbard,  in 
defence  of  Him  whom  he  served  and  dearly  loved  ? 
That  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark  should  make  no  refer- 
ence to  this  scene  of  violence,  had  it  occurred  at  the 
visit  they  record,  is  strange  and  unaccountable;  and 
the  omission  is  certainly  an  indication,  if  not  a  proof, 
that  the  Synoptists  are  describing  two  separate  visits 
to  Nazareth — the  one,  as  narrated  by  St.  Luke,  at  the 
commencement  of  His  ministry;  and  the  other  at  a  later 
date,  probably  towards  its  close.  And  with  this  view 
the  substance  of  the  Nazareth  address  perfectly  accords. 
The  whole  address  has  the  ring  of  an  inaugural  mes- 
sage ;  it  is  the  voice  of  an  opening  spring,  and  not  of  a 
waning  summer.  "  This  day  is  this  Scripture  fulfilled 
in  your  ears "  is  the  blast  of  the  silver  trumpet 
announcing  the  beginning  of  the  Messianic  year,  the 
year  of  a  truer,  wider  Jubilee. 

It  seems  to  us,  therefore,  that  the  chronology  of  St. 
Luke  is  perfectly  correct,  as  he  places  in  the  forefront 
of  his  Gospel  the  earlier  visit  to  Nazareth,  and  the 
violent  treatment  Jesus  there  received.  At  the  second 
visit  there  was  still  a  widespread  unbelief,  which  caused 
Jesus  to  marvel ;  but  there  was  no  attempt  at  violence, 
for  His  disciples  were  with  Him  now,  while  the  report 
of  His  Judaean  ministry,  which  had  gone  before  Him, 


THE  GOSPEL   OF  THE  JUBILEE.  131 

and  the  miracles  He  wrought  in  their  presence,  had 
softened  down  even  Nazareth  prejudices  and  asperities. 
The  events  of  the  first  Galilean  tour  were  probably  in 
the  following  order.  Jesus,  with  His  five  disciples, 
goes  to  Cana,  invited  guests  at  the  marriage,  and  here 
He  opens  His  miraculous  commission,  by  turning  the 
water  into  wine.  From  Cana  they  proceed  to  Caper- 
naum, where  they  remain  for  a  short  time,  Jesus 
preaching  in  their  synagogue,  and  probably  continuing 
His  miraculous  works.  Leaving  His  disciples  behind 
at  Capernaum — for  between  the  preliminary  call  by 
the  Jordan  and  the  final  call  by  the  lake  the  fisher- 
disciples  get  back  to  their  old  occupations  for  a  while 
— Jesus  goes  up  to  Nazareth,  with  His  mother  and 
His  brethren.  Thence,  after  His  violent  rejection,  He 
returns  to  Capernaum,  where  He  calls  His  disciples 
from  their  boats  and  receipt  of  custom,  probably  com- 
pleting the  sacred  number  before  setting  out  on  His 
journey  southward  to  Jerusalem.  If  this  harmony  be 
correct— and  the  weight  of  probability  seems  to  be  in 
its  favour — then  the  address  at  Nazareth,  which  is  the 
subject  for  our  consideration  now,  would  be  the  first 
lecorded  utterance  of  Jesus;  for  thus  far  Cana  gives 
us  one  startling  miracle,  while  in  Capernaum  we  find 
the  report  of  His  acts,  rather  than  the  echoes  of  His 
words.  And  that  St.  Luke  alone  should  give  us  this 
incident,  recording  it  in  such  a  graphic  manner,  would 
almost  imply  that  he  had  received  the  account  from  an 
eye-witness,  probably — if  we  may  gather  anything  from 
the  Nazarene  tone  of  St.  Luke's  earlier  pages — from 
some  member  of  the  Holy  Family. 

Jesus  has  now  fairly  embarked  upon  His  Messianic 
mission,  and  He  begins  that  mission,  as  prophecy  had 
long   foretold  He  should,  in  Galilee  of  the   Gentiles. 


132  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.   LUKE. 

The  rumour  of  His  wonderful  deeds  at  Cana  and 
Capernaum  had  already  preceded  Him  thither,  when 
Jesus  came  once  again  to  the  home  of  His  childhood 
and  youth.  Going,  as  had  been  His  custom  from 
boyhood,  into  the  synagogue  on  the  Sabbath  day 
(St.  Luke  is  writing  for  Gentiles  who  are  unversed 
in  Jewish  customs),  Jesus  stood  up  to  read.  "The 
Megilloth,"  or  Book  of  the  Prophets,  having  been 
handed  to  Him,  He  unrolled  the  book,  and  read  the 
passage  in  Isaiah  (lxi.  i)  to  which  His  mind  had  been 
Divinely  directed,  or  which  He  had  purposely  chosen  : — 

"  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  Me, 
Because  He  anointed  Me  to  preach  good  tidings  to  the  poor, 
He  hath  sent  Me  to  proclaim  release  to  the  captives, 
And  recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind, 
To  set  at  liberty  them  that  are  bruised, 
To  proclaim  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord.* 

Then  closing,  or  rolling  up,  the  book,  and  handing 
it  back  to  the  attendant,  Jesus  sat  down,  and  began 
His  discourse.  The  Evangelist  does  not  record  any  of 
the  former  part  of  the  discourse,  but  simply  gives  us 
the  effect  produced,  in  the  riveted  gaze  and  the  rising 
astonishment  of  His  auditors,  as  they  caught  up  eagerly 
His  sweet  and  gracious  words.  Doubtless,  He  would 
explain  the  words  of  the  prophet,  first  in  their  literal, 
and  then  in  their  prophetic  sense;  and  so  far  He 
carried  the  hearts  of  His  hearers  with  Him,  for  who 
could  speak  of  their  Messianic  hopes  without  awaking 
sweet  music  in  the  Hebrew  heart  ?  But  directly  Jesus 
applies  the  passage  to  Himself,  and  says,  "  This  day 
is  this  Scripture  fulfilled  in  your  ears,"  the  fashion 
of  their  countenance  alters;  the  Divine  emphasis  He 
puts  upon  the  Me  curdles  in  their  heart,  turning  their 
pleasure   and   wonder   into   incredulity,   envy,   and    a 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  THE  JUBILEE.  133 

perfect  frenzy  of  rage.  The  primary  reference  of  the 
prophecy  seems  to  have  been  to  the  return  of  Israel 
from  captivity.  It  was  a  political  Jubilee  he  pro- 
claimed, when  Zion  should  have  a  "  garland  for  ashes," 
when  the  captive  should  be  free,  and  aliens  should  be 
their  servants.  But  the  flowers  of  Scripture  are  mostly 
double ;  its  pictures  and  parables  have  often  a  nearer 
meaning,  and  another  more  remote,  or  a  spiritual, 
involved  in  the  literal  sense.  That  it  was  so  here  is 
evident,  for  Jesus  takes  this  Scripture — which  we 
might  call  a  Babylonish  garment,  woven  out  of  the  Exile 
— and  wraps  it  around  Himself,  as  if  it  belonged  to 
Himself  alone,  and  were  so  intended  from  the  very  first. 
His  touch  thus  invests  it  with  a  new  significance ;  and 
making  this  Scripture  a  vestment  for  Himself,  Jesus, 
so  to  speak,  shakes  out  its  narrower  folds,  and  gives  it 
a  wider,  an  eternal  meaning.  But  why  should  Jesus 
select  this  passage  above  all  others?  Were  not  the 
Old  Testament  Scriptures  full  of  types,  and  shadows, 
and  prophecies  which  testified  of  Him,  any  one  of 
which  He  might  have  appropriated  now?  Yes,  but 
no  other  passage  so  completely  answered  His  design, 
no  other  was  so  clearly  and  fully  declarative  of  His 
earthly  mission.  And  so  Jesus  selected  this  picture  of 
Isaiah,  which  was  at  once  a  prophecy  and  an  epitome 
of  His  own  Gospel,  as  His  inaugural  message,  His 
manifesto. 

The  Mosaic  Code,  in  its  play  upon  the  temporal 
octaves,  had  made  provision,  not  only  for  a  weekly 
Sabbath,  and  for  a  Sabbath  year,  but  it  completed  its 
cycle  of  festivals  by  setting  apart  each  fiftieth  year  as 
a  year  of  special  grace  and  gladness.  It  was  the  year 
of  redemption  and  restoration,  when  all  debts  were 
remitted,  when  the   family  inheritance,  which  by  the 


134  THE   GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

pressure  of  the  times  had  been  alienated,  reverted  to  its 
original  owner,  and  when  those  who  had  mortgaged 
their  personal  liberty  regained  their  freedom.  The 
u  Jubilee  "  year,  as  they  called  it — putting  into  its  name 
the  play  of  the  priestly  trumpets  which  ushered  it  in — 
was  thus  the  Divine  safeguard  against  monopolies,  a 
Divine  provision  for  a  periodic  redistribution  of  the 
wealth  and  privileges  of  the  theocracy;  while  at  the  same 
time  it  served  to  keep  intact  the  separate  threads  of 
family  life,  running  its  lines  of  lineage  down  through  the 
centuries,  and  across  into  the  New  Testament.  Seizing 
upon  this,  the  gladdest  festival  of  Hebrew  life,  Jesus 
likens  Himself  to  one  of  the  priests,  who  with  trumpet 
of  silver  proclaims  "the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord." 
He  finds  in  that  Jubilee  a  type  of  His  Messianic  year, 
a  year  that  shall  bring,  not  to  one  chosen  race  alone, 
but  to  a  world  of  debtors  and  captives,  remissions  and 
manumissions  without  number,  ushering  in  an  era  of 
liberty  and  gladness.  And  so  in  these  words,  adapted 
and  adopted  from  Isaiah,  Jesus  announces  Himself  as 
the  world's  Evangelist,  and  Healer,  and  Emancipator; 
or  separating  the  general  message  into  its  prismatic 
colours,  we  have  the  three  characteristics  of  Christ's 
Gospel — (i)  as  the  Gospel  of  Love;  (2)  the  Gospel  of 
Light ;  and  (3)  the  Gospel  of  Liberty. 

I.  The  Gospel  of  Jesus  was  the  Gospel  of  Love. 
11  He  anointed  Me  to  preach  good  tidings  to  the  poor." 
That  there  is  a  Gospel  even  in  the  Old  Testament  no 
one  will  attempt  to  deny,  and  able  writers  have  delighted 
in  tracing  out  the  evangelism  that,  like  hidden  veins 
of  gold,  runs  here  and  there,  now  embedded  deep  in  his- 
torical strata,  and  now  cropping  out  in  the  current  of 
prophetical  speech.  Still,  an  ear  but  little  trained  to  har- 
monies can  detect  a  marvellous  difference  between  the 


THE  GOSPEL   OF  THE  JUBILEE.  13S 

tone  of  the  Old  and  the  tone  of  the  New  Dispensation. 
"  Evangelists "  is  scarcely  the  name  we   should  give 
to  the  prophets  and  preachers  of  the  Old  Testament, 
if  we  except  that  prophet  of  the  dawn,  Isaiah.     They 
came,  not  as  the  bearers  of  glad  tidings,  but  with  the 
pressure,  the  burden  of  a  terrible  "  woe  "  upon  them. 
With  a  voice  of  threat  and  doom  they  recall  Israel 
back  to  the  ways  erf  fidelity  and  purity,  and  with  the 
caustic   of  biting  words   they  seek   to   burn   out   the 
cancer  of  national  corruption.     They  were  no  doves, 
those  old-time   prophets,  building  their   nests   in   the 
blossoming  olives,  in   soft  accents  telling  of  a  winter 
past  and  a  summer  near  ;  they  were  storm-birds  rather, 
beating  with  swift,  sad  wings  on  the  crest  of  sullen 
waves,    or  whirling   about   among   the   torn   shrouds. 
Even  the  eremite  Baptist  brought  no  evangel.     He  was 
a  sad  man,  with  a  sad  message,  telling,  not  of  the  right 
which  men  should  do,  but  of  the  wrong  they  should 
not   do,    his   ministry,  like   that   of  the  law,  being  a 
ministry  of  condemnation.     Jesus,  however,  announces 
Himself  as  the  world's  Evangelist.     He  declares  that 
He  is  anointed  and  commissioned  to  be  the  bearer  of 
good,  glad  tidings  to  man.     At  once  the  Morning  Star 
and   Sun,  He  comes  to  herald  a  new  day;  nay,  He 
comes  to  make  that  day.     And  so  it  was.     We  cannot 
listen  to  the  words  of  Jesus  without  noticing  the  high 
and  heavenly  pitch  to  which  their  music  is  set.     Be- 
ginning with  the  Beatitudes,  they  move  on  in  the  higher 
spaces,  striking  the  notes  of  courage,  hope,  and  faith, 
and  at  last,  in  the  guest-chamber,  dropping  down  to 
their  key-note,  as  they  close  with  an  eirenicon  and  a 
benediction.       How    little   Jesus   played    upon    men's 
fears!  how,  instead,  He  sought  to  inspire  them  with 
new  hopes,  telling  of  the  possibilities  of  goodness,  :he 


t36  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

perfections  which  were  within  reach  of  even  the  human 
endeavour !  How  seldom  you  catch  the  tone  of  de- 
spondency in  His  words !  As  He  summons  men  to 
a  life  of  purity,  unselfishness,  and  faith,  His  are  not  the 
voice  and  mien  of  one  who  commands  to  a  forlorn  hope. 
There  is  the  ring  of  courage,  conviction,  certainty  about 
His  tone,  a  hopefulness  that  was  itself  half  a  victory. 
Jesus  was  no  Pessimist,  reading  over  the  grave  of 
departed  glories  His  "  ashes  to  ashes;"  He  who  knew 
our  human  nature  best  had  most  hopes  of  it,  for  He 
saw  the  Deity  that  was  back  of  it  and  within  it. 

And  just  here  we  touch  what  we  may  call  the  funda- 
mental chord  in  the  Gospel  of  Jesus,  the  Fatherhood 
cf  God ;  for  though  we  can  detect  other  strains  running 
through  the  music  of  the  Gospel,  such  as  the  Love  of 
God,  the  Grace  of  God,  and  the  Kingdom  of  God,  yet 
these  are  but  the  consonant  notes  completing  the  har- 
monic scale,  or  the  variations  that  play  about  the  Divine 
Fatherhood.  To  the  Hebrew  conception  of  God  this 
was  an  element  altogether  new.  To  their  mind  Jehovah 
is  the  Lord  of  hosts,  an  invisible,  absolute  Power, 
inhabiting  the  thick  darkness,  and  speaking  in  the  fire. 
Sinai  thus  throws  its  shadow  across  the  Old  Testa- 
ment Scriptures,  and  men  inhale  an  atmosphere  of  law 
rather  than  of  love. 

But  what  a  transformation  was  wrought  in  the  world's 
thought  and  life  as  Jesus  unfolded  the  Divine  Father- 
hood !  It  altered  the  whole  aspect  of  man's  relation  to 
God,  with  a  change  as  marked  and  glorious  as  when 
our  earth  turns  its  face  more  directly  to  the  sun,  to  find 
its  summer.  The  Great  King,  whose  will  commanded 
all  forces,  became  the  Great  Father,  in  whose  compas- 
sionate heart  the  toiling  children  of  men  might  find 
refuge  and  rest.     The  "  Everlasting  Arms  "  were  none 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  THE  JUBILEE.  137 

the  less  strong  and  omnipotent ;  but  as  Jesus  uncovered 
them  they  seemed  less  distant,  less  rigid  ;  they  became 
so  near  and  so  gentle,  the  weakest  child  of  earth  might 
not  fear  to  lay  its  tired  heart  upon  them.  Law  was 
none  the  less  mighty,  none  the  less  majestic,  but  it  was 
now  a  transfigured  law,  all  lighted  up  and  suffused  with 
love.  No  longer  was  life  one  round  of  servile  tasks, 
demanded  by  an  inexorable,  invisible  Pharaoh ;  no 
longer  was  it  a  trampled  playground,  where  all  the 
flowers  are  crushed,  as  Fate  and  Chance  take  their 
alternate  innings.  No  ;  life  was  ennobled,  adorned  with 
new  and  rare  beauties ;  and  when  Jesus  opened  the 
gate  of  the  Divine  Fatherhood  the  light  that  was 
beyond,  and  that  "  never  was  on  sea  or  land,"  shone 
through,  putting  a  heavenliness  upon  the  earthly,  and 
a  Divineness  upon  the  human  life.  What  better,  gladder 
tidings  could  the  poor  (whether  in  spirit  or  in  life)  hear 
than  this — that  heaven  was  no  longer  a  distant  dream, 
but  a  present  and  most  precious  reality,  touching  at 
every  point,  and  enfolding  their  little  lives ;  that  God 
was  no  longer  hostile,  or  even  indifferent  to  them,  but 
that  He  cared  for  them  with  an  infinite  care,  and  loved 
them  with  an  infinite  love  ?  Thus  did  Jesus  proclaim 
the  u  good  tidings ; "  for  love,  grace,  redemption,  and 
heaven  itself  are  all  found  within  the  compass  of  the 
Fatherhood.  And  He  who  gave  to  His  disciples,  in 
the  Paternoster,  a  golden  key  for  heaven's  audience- 
chamber,  speaks  that  sacred  name  "  Father  "  even  amid 
the  agonies  of  the  cross,  putting  the  silver  trumpet  to 
His  parched  and  quivering  lips,  so  that  earth  may  hear 
once  again  the  music  of  its  new  and  more  glorious 
Jubilee. 

2.  The  Gospel  of  Jesus   was   a   Gospel   of  Light 
"  And  recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind,"  which  is  the 


138  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

Septuagh-t  rendering  of  the  Hebrew  passage  in  Isaiah, 
"the  opening  of  the  prison  to  them  that  are  bound." 
At  first  sight  this  appears  to  be  a  break  in  the  Jubilee 
idea;  for  ph}'sical  cures,  such  as  the  healing  of  the 
blind,  did  not  come  within  the  scope  of  Jubilatic  mercies. 
The  original  expression,  however,  contains  a  blending 
of  figures,  which  together  preserve  the  unity  of  the 
prophetic  picture.  Literally  it  reads,  "The  opening  of 
the  eyes  to  them  that  are  bound  ; "  the  figure  being 
that  of  a  captive,  whose  long  captivity  in  the  darkness 
has  filmed  his  vision,  and  who  now  passes  through  the 
opened  door  of  his  prison  into  the  light  of  day. 

In  what  way  shall  we  interpret  these  words  ?  Are 
they  to  be  taken  literally,  or  spiritually  ?  or  are  both 
methods  equally  legitimate  ?  Evidently  they  are  both 
intended,  for  Jesus  was  the  Light-bringer  in  more  senses 
than  one.  That  the  Messiah  should  signalize  His 
advent  by  performing  wonders  and  signs,  and  by  work- 
ing physical  cures,  wras  certainly  the  teaching  of  pro- 
phecy, as  it  was  a  fixed  and  prominent  hope  in  the 
expectation  of  the  Jews.  And  so,  when  the  despondent 
Baptist  sent  two  of  his  disciples  to  ask  "  Art  Thou  He 
that  should  come?"  Jesus  gave  no  direct  answer,  but 
turning  from  His  questioners  to  the  multitude  of  sick 
who  pressed  around  Him,  He  healed  their  sick,  and 
gave  sight  to  many  that  wTere  blind.  Then  returning 
to  the  surprised  strangers,  He  bids  them  carry  back  to 
their  master  these  visible  proofs  of  His  Messiahship — 
how  that  "lepers  are  cleansed,  and  the  blind  receive 
their  sight."  Jesus  Himself  had  a  wonderful  power  of 
vision.  His  e}res  were  Divinely  bright,  for  they  carried 
their  own  light.  Not  only  had  He  the  gift  of  pre- 
science, the  forward-looking  eye;  He  had  what  for 
want  of  a  word  we  may  call  the  gift  of  prescience,  the 


THE  GOSPEL   OF  THE  JUBILEE.  139 

eye  that  looked  within,  that  saw  the  heart  and  soul  of 
things.  What  a  strange  fascination  there  was  in  His 
very  look !  how  it  flashed  like  a  subtle  lightning, 
striking  and  scathing  with  its  holy  indignation  the  half- 
veiled  meanness  and  hypocrisy  !  and  how  again,  like 
a  beam  of  light,  it  fell  upon  Peter's  soul,  thawing  the 
chilled  heart,  and  opening  the  closed  fountain  of  his 
tears,  as  an  Alpine  summer  falls  on  the  rigid  glacier, 
and  sends  it  rippling  and  singing  through  the  lower 
vales.  And  had  not  Jesus  an  especial  sympathy  for 
cases  of  ophthalmic  distress,  paying  to  the  blind  a 
peculiar  attention  ?  How  quickly  He  responded  to 
Bartimaeus— "  What  is  it  that  I  shall  do  for  thee  ?  " — 
as  if  Bartimaeus  were  conferring  the  benefit  by  making 
his  request.  Where  on  the  pages  of  the  four  Gospels 
do  we  find  a  picture  more  full  of  beauty  and  sublimity 
than  when  we  read  of  Jesus  taking  the  blind  man  by 
the  hand,  and  leading  him  out  of  the  town  ?  What 
moral  grandeur  and  what  touching  pathos  are  there ! 
and  how  that  stoop  of  gentleness  makes  Him  great  ! 
No  other  case  is  there  of  such  prolonged  and  tender 
sympathy,  where  He  not  only  opens  the  gates  of  day 
for  the  benighted,  but  leads  the  benighted  one  up  to 
the  gates.  And  why  does  Jesus  make  this  difference 
in  His  miracles,  that  while  other  cures  are  wTrought 
instantly,  even  the  raising  of  the  dead,  with  nothing 
more  than  a  look,  a  word,  or  a  touch,  in  healing  the 
blind  He  should  work  the  cure,  as  it  were,  in  parts,  or 
by  using  such  intermediaries  as  clay,  saliva,  or  the 
water  of  Siloam's  pool  ?  Must  it  not  have  been  inten- 
tional ?  It  would  seem  so,  though  what  the  purpose 
might  be  we  can  only  guess.  Was  it  so  gradual  an 
inletting  of  the  light,  because  a  glare  too  bright  and 
sudden  would  only  conftise  and  blind?  or  did  Jesus 


140  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

linger  over  the  cure  with  the  pleasure  of  one  who  loves 
to  watch  the  dawn,  as  it  paints  the  east  with  vermilion 
and  gold  ?  or  did  Jesus  make  use  of  the  saliva  and 
clay,  that  like  crystal  lenses,  they  might  magnify  His 
power,  and  show  how  His  will  was  supreme,  that 
He  had  a  thousand  ways  of  restoring  sight,  and  that 
He  had  only  to  command  even  unlikely  things,  and 
light,  or  rather  sight,  should  be?  We  do  not  know 
the  purpose,  but  we  do  know  that  physical  sight  was 
somehow  a  favourite  gift  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  one  that 
He  handed  to  men  carefully  and  tenderly.  Nay,  He 
Himself  said  that  the  man  of  Jerusalem  had  been  born 
blind  "  that  the  works  of  God  should  be  manifest  in 
him ; "  that  is,  his  firmament  had  been  for  forty  years 
darkened  that  his  age,  and  all  coming  ages,  might  see 
shining  within  it  the  constellations  of  Divine  Pity  and 
Divine  Power. 

But  while  Jesus  knew  well  the  anatomy  of  the 
natural  eye,  and  could  and  did  heal  it  of  its  disorders, 
putting  within  the  sunken  socket  the  rounded  ball,  or 
restoring  to  the  optic  nerve  its  lost  powers,  this  was 
not  the  only  sight  He  brought.  To  the  companion 
clauses  of  this  prophecy,  where  Jesus  proclaims  deliver- 
ance to  the  captives,  and  sets  at  liberty  them  that  are 
bruised,  we  are  compelled  to  give  a  spiritual  interpre- 
tation ;  and  so  "the  recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind" 
demands  a  far  wider  horizon  than  the  literalistic  sense 
offers.  It  speaks  of  the  true  Light  which  lighteth 
every  man,  that  spiritual  photosphere  that  environs 
and  enswathes  the  soul,  and  of  the  opening  and  adjust- 
ing of  the  spiritual  sense ;  for  as  sight  without  light  is 
darkness,  so  light  without  sight  is  darkness  still.  The 
two  facts  are  thus  related,  each  useless  apart  from  the 
other,    but  together   producing    what   we   call   vision 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  THE  JUBILEE.  141 


The  recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind  is  thus  the  uni- 
versal miracle.     It  is  the  "Let  light  be"  of  the  new 
Genesis,  or,  as  we  prefer  to  call  it,  the  "  regeneration." 
It  is  the  dawn,  which,  breaking  over  the  soul,  broadens 
unto  the  perfect  day,  the  heavenly,  the  eternal  neon. 
Jesus  Himself  recognized  this  binoculism,  this  double 
vision.     He  says  (John  xvi.  16),  "A  little  while,  and 
ye  behold  Me  no  more ;  and  again  a  little  while,  and  ye 
shall  see  Me,"  using  two  altogether  different  words— 
the  one  speaking  of  the  vision  of  the  sense,  the  other 
of  the  deeper  vision  of  the  soul.     And  it  was  so.     The 
disciples'    vision    of  the    Christ,    at  least  so    long    as 
the  bodily  presence  was  with  them,  was  the  earthly, 
physical  vision.     The  spiritual  Christ  was,  in  a  sense, 
lost,  masked  in  the  corporeal.     The  veil  of  His  flesh 
hung  dense  and  heavy  before  their  eyes,  and  not  until 
it  was  uplifted  on  the  cross,  not  until  it  was  rent  in 
twain,  did  they  see  the  mysterious  Holy  Presence  that 
dwelt  within  the  veil.     Nor  was  the  clearer  vision  given 
them  even  now.     The  dust   of  the  sepulchre  was  in 
their  eyes,  blurring,  and  for  a  time  half-blinding  them 
—the  anointing  with  the  clay.     The   emptied    grave, 
the  Resurrection,  was  their  "  pool  of  Siloam,"  washing 
away  the  blinding  clay,  the  dust  of  their  gross,  materi- 
alistic thoughts.     Henceforth  they  saw  Christ,  not,  as 
before,  ever  coming  and  going,  but  as  the  ever-present, 
the  abiding  One.     In  the  fuller  light  of  the  Pentecostal 
flames  the  unseen  Christ  became  more  near  and  more 
real  than  the  seen  Christ  ever  was.  Seeing  Him  as  visible, 
their  minds  were   holden,  somewhat  perplexed;   they 
could  neither  accomplish  much  nor  endure  much  ;  but 
seeing  Him  who  had  become  invisible,  they  were  a  com- 
pany of  invincibles.     They  could  do  and  they  could  en- 
dure anything;  for  was  not  the  I  AM  with  them  always? 


142  THE   GGSrEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

Now,  even  in  the  physical  vision  there  is  a  wonderful 
correspondence  between  the  sight  and  the  soul,  the 
prospect  and  introspect.  As  men  read  the  outward 
world  they  see  pretty  much  the  shadow  of  themselves, 
their  thoughts,  feelings,  and  ideas.  In  the  German 
fable  the  travelled  stork  had  nothing  to  say  about  the 
beauty  of  the  fields  and  wonders  of  the  cities  over 
which  it  passed,  but  it  could  discourse  at  length  about 
the  delicious  frogs  it  had  found  in  a  certain  ditch. 
Exactly  the  same  law  rules  up  in  the  higher  vision. 
Men  see  what  they  themselves  love  and  are ;  the  sight 
is  but  a  sort  of  projection  of  the  soul.  As  St.  Paul 
says,  "The  natural  man  receiyeth  not  the  things  of 
God;"  the  things  which  God  hath  prepared  for  them 
that  love  Him  are  "  things  which  eye  saw  not,  and  ear 
heard  not."  And  so  Jesus  gives  sight  by  renewing  the 
soul ;  He  creates  around  us  a  new  heaven  and  a  new 
earth,  by  creating  a  new,  a  clean  heart  within  us. 
Within  every  soul  there  are  the  possibilities  of  a 
Paradise,  but  these  possibilities  are  dormant.  The 
natural  heart  is  a  chaos  of  confusion  and  darkness, 
until  it  turns  towards  Jesus  as  its  Saviour  and  its 
Sun,  and  henceforth  revolves  around  Him  in  its  ever- 
narrowing  circles. 

3.  The  Gospel  of  Jesus  was  a  Gospel  of  Liberty. 
u  He  hath  sent  Me  to  proclaim  release  to  the  cap- 
tives," "  to  set  at  liberty  them  that  are  bruised."  The 
latter  clause  is  not  in  the  original  prophecy,  but  is  a 
rough  adaptation  of  another  passage  in  Isaiah  (lviii.  6). 
Probably  it  was  quoted  by  Jesus  in  His  address,  and  so 
wras  inserted  by  the  Evangelist  with  the  passages  read ; 
for  in  the  New  Testament  the  quotations  from  the  Old 
are  grouped  together  by  affinities  of  spirit,  rather  than 
by  the  law  of  textual  continuity.     The  two  passages 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  THE  JUBILEE.  143 

are  one  in  their  proclamation  and  promise  of  liberty, 
but  they  by  no  means  cover  the  same  ground.  The 
former  speaks  of  the  liberation  of  captives,  those  whom 
the  exigencies  of  war  or  some  change  of  fortune  have 
thrown  into  prison ;  the  latter  speaks  of  deliverance  to 
the  oppressed,  those  whose  personal  liberties  may  not 
be  impawned,  but  whose  lives  are  made  hard  and  bitter 
under  severe  exactions,  and  whose  spirits  are  broken, 
crushed  beneath  a  weight  of  accumulated  ills.  Speak- 
ing generally,  we  should  call  the  one  an  amnesty,  and 
the  other  an  enfranchisement;  for  one  is  the  offer  of 
freedom  to  the  captive,  the  other  of  freedom  to  the 
slave ;  while  together  they  form  an  act  of  emancipation 
for  humanity,  enfranchising  and  ennobling  each  indivi- 
dual son  of  man,  and  giving  to  him,  even  the  poorest, 
the  freedom  of  God's  world. 

In  what  sense,  then,  is  Jesus  the  great  Emancipator  ? 
It  would  be  easy  to  show  that  Jesus,  personally,  was  a 
lover  of  freedom.  He  could  not  brook  restraints. 
Antiquity,  conventionalism,  had  no  charms  for  Him. 
Keenly  in  touch  with  the  present,  He  did  not  care  to 
take  the  cold,  clammy  hand  of  a  dead  Past,  or  allow  it  to 
prescribe  His  actions.  Between  the  right  and  the  wrong, 
the  good  and  the  evil,  He  put  a  wall  of  adamant,  God's 
eternal  "  No ; "  but  within  the  sphere  of  the  right,  the 
goed,  He  left  room  for  largest  liberties.  He  observed 
forms— occasionally,  at  least— but  formalism  He  could 
not  endure.  And  so  Jesus  was  constantly  coming  into 
collision  with  the  Pharisaic  school  of  thought,  the 
school  of  routinists,  casuists,  whose  religion  was  a 
glossary  of  terms,  a  volume  of  formulas  and  negations. 
To  the  Pharisee  religion  was  a  cold,  dead  thing,  a 
mummy,  all  enswathed  in  the  cerecloths  of  tradition ; 
to  Jesus  it  was  a  living  soul  within  a  living  form,  an 


144  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

angel  of  grace  and  beauty,  whose  wings  would  bear 
her  aloft  to  higher,  heavenlier  spheres,  and  whose  feet 
and  hands  fitted  her  just  as  well  for  the  common  walks 
of  life,  in  a  beautiful,  every-day  ministry  of  blessing. 
And  how  Jesus  loved  to  give  personal  liberty  to  man — 
to  remove  the  restrictions  disease  had  put  around 
their  activities,  and  to  leave  them  physically,  mentally 
free !  And  what  were  His  miracles  of  healing  but  pro- 
clamations of  liberty,  in  the  lowest  sense  of  that  word  ? 
He  found  the  human  body  enfeebled,  enslaved ;  here  it 
was  an  arm,  there  an  eye,  so  held  in  the  grip  of  disease 
that  it  was  as  if  dead.  But  Jesus  said  to  Disease, 
"Loose  that  half-strangled  life  and  let  it  go,"  and  in  an 
instant  it  was  free  to  act  and  feel,  finding  its  lesser 
jubilee.  Jesus  saw  the  human  mind  led  into  captivity. 
Reason  was  dethroned  and  immured  in  the  dungeon, 
while  the  feet  of  lawless  passions  were  trampling  over- 
head. But  when  Jesus  healed  the  demoniac,  the  im- 
becile, the  lunatic,  what  was  it  but  a  mental  jubilee, 
as  He  gives  peace  to  a  distracted  soul,  and  leads 
banished  Reason  back  to  her  Jerusalem  ? 

But  these  deliverances  and  liberties,  glorious  as  they 
are,  are  but  figures  of  the  true,  which  is  the  en- 
franchisement of  the  soul.  The  disciples  were  per- 
plexed and  sorely  disappointed  that  Jesus  should  die 
without  having  wrought  any  "  redemption  "  for  Israel. 
This  was  their  one  dream,  that  the  Messiah  should 
break  in  pieces  the  hated  Roman  yoke,  and  effect  a 
political  deliverance.  But  they  see  Him  moving 
steadily  to  His  goal,  taking  no  note  of  their  aspirations, 
or  noticing  them  only  to  rebuke  them,  and  scarce 
giving  a  passing  glance  to  these  Roman  eagles,  which 
darken  the  sky,  and  cast  their  ominous  shadows  over 
the  homes  and  fields  of  Israel.      But  Jesus  had  not 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  THE  JUBILEE.  145 


come  into  the  world  to  effect  any  local,  political  redemp- 
tion ;  another  Moses  could  have  done  that.  He  had 
come  to  lead  captive  the  captivity  of  Sin,  as  Zacharias 
had  foretold,  "  that  being  delivered  out  of  the  hand  of 
our  (spiritual)  en.  ,nies,  we  might  serve  Him  without 
fear,  in  holiness  and  righteousness  all  the  days  of  our 
life."  The  sphere  of  His  mission  was  where  His 
kingdom  should  be,  in  the  great  interior  of  the  heart. 
A  Prophet  like  unto  Moses,  but  infinitely  greater 
than  he,  He  too  leaves  the  palace,  of  the  Eternal,  lay- 
ing aside,  r*ot  the  robes  of  a  prospective  1:03 "an., ,  uut 
the  glories  He  possessed  with  the  Father;  He  too 
assumes  the  dress,  the  speech,  nay,  the  very  nature, 
of  the  race  He  has  come  to  redeem.  And  when  no 
other  ransom  was  sufficient  He  "offered  Himself  with- 
out spot  to  God,"  "  our  Passover,  sacrified  for  uc,"  so 
sprinkling  the  doorway  of  the  new  Exodus  with  His 
own  blood.  But  here  we  «.*and  on  the  fhreshoH  of 
a  great  mystery ;  for  if  angels  bend  over  the  mercy- 
seat,  desiring,  but  in  vain,  to  read  the  secret  of  redemp- 
tion, how  can  our  finite  minds  grasp  the  great  thought 
and  purpose  of  God  ?  We  do  know  this,  however,  for 
it  is  the  oft-repeated  truth  of  Scripture,  that  the  life, 
or,  as  St.  Peter  puts  it,  "  the  precious  blood  of  Christ," 
was,  in  a  certain  sense,  our  ransom,  the  price  of  our 
redemption.  We  say  "in  a  certain  sense,"  for  the 
figure  breaks  down  if  we  press  it  unduly,  as  if  Heaven 
had  held  a  parley  with  the  power  that  had  enslaved 
man,  and,  at  a  stipulated  price,  had  bought  him  off. 
That  certainly  was  no  part  of  the  Divine  purpose  and 
fact  of  redemption.  But  an  atonement  was  needed  in 
order  to  make  salvation  possible ;  for  how  could  God, 
infinitely  holy  and  just,  remit  the  penalty  due  to  sin 
with  no  expression  of  His  abhorrence  of  sin,  without 

10 


146  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

destroying  the  dignity  of  law,  and  reducing  justice  to 
a  mere  name  ?  But  the  obedience  and  death  of  Christ 
were  a  satisfaction  of  infinite  worth.  They  upheld  the 
majesty  of  law,  and  at  the  same  time  made  way  for  the 
interventions  of  Divine  Love.  The  cross  of  Jesus 
was  thus  the  place  where  Mercy  and  Truth  met  to- 
gether, and  Righteousness  and  Peace  kissed  each 
other.  It  was  at  once  the  visible  expression  of  God's 
deep  hatred  of  sin,  and  of  His  deep  love  to  the  sinner. 
And  so,  not  virtually  simply,  in  some  far-off  sense,  but 
in  truest  reality,  Jesus  "died  for  our  sins,"  Himself 
tasting  death  that  we  might  have  life,  even  the  life" 
"more  abundant,"  the  life  everlasting;  suffering  Him- 
self to  be  led  captive  by  the  powers  of  sin,  bound  to 
the  cross  and  imprisoned  in  a  grave,  that  men  might 
be  free  in  all  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of 
God. 

But  this  deliverance  from  sin,  the  pardon  for  past 
offences,  is  but  one  part  of  the  salvation  Jesus  provides 
and  proclaims.  Heaven's  angel  may  light  up  the 
dungeon  of  the  imprisoned  soul ;  he  may  strike  off  its 
fetters,  and  lead  it  forth  into  light  and  liberty ;  but  if 
Satan  can  reverse  all  this,  and  fling  back  the  soul  into 
captivity,  what  is  that  but  a  partial,  intermittent  salva- 
tion, so  unlike  Him  whose  name  is  Wonderful  ?  The 
angel  said,  "  He  shall  save  His  people,"  not  from  the 
effects  of  their  sir,  from  its  guilt  and  condemnation 
alone,  but  "  from  their  sins."  That  is,  He  shall  give 
to  the  pardoned  soul  power  over  sin  ;  it  shall  no  longer 
have  dominion  over  him  ;  captivity  itself  shall  be  led 
captive ;  for 

«'  His  grace,  Kis  love,  Kis  care 
Are  wider  than  our  utmost  need, 
And  higher  than  our  prayer." 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  THE  JUBILEE.  147 

Yes,  verily ;  and  the  life  that  is  hid  with  Christ  in 
God,  that,  with  no  side-glances  at  self,  is  set  apart 
utterly  to  do  the  Divine  will,  that  abandons  itself  to 
the  perfect  keeping  of  the  perfect  Saviour,  will  find  on 
earth  the  "  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord,"  its  years, 
henceforth,  years  of  liberty  and  victory,  a  prolonged 
Jubilee. 


CHAPTER    IX. 
A  SABBATH  IN  GALILEE, 

WE  should  naturally  expect  that  our  physician- 
Evangelist  would  have  a  peculiar  interest  in 
Christ's  connection  with  human  suffering  and  disease, 
and  in  this  we  are  not  mistaken. 

It  is  almost  a  superfluous  task  to  consider  what  our 
Gospels  would  have  been  had  there  been  no  miracles 
of  healing  to  record  ;  but  we  may  safely  say  that  such 
a  blank  would  be  inexplicable,  if  not  impossible.  Even 
had  prophecy  been  utterly  silent  on  the  subject,  should 
we  not  lovk  for  the  Christ  to  signaiize  His  advent  and 
reign  upon  earth  by  manifestations  of  His  Divine 
power  ?  A  Man  amongst  men,  human  yet  superhuman, 
how  can  He  manifesc  the  Divinity  that  is  within,  except 
by  the  flashings  forth  of  His  supernatural  power? 
Speech,  however  eloquent,  however  true,  could  not  do 
this.  There  must  be  a  background  of  deeds,  visible 
credentials  of  authority  and  power,  or  else  the  words 
are  weak  and  vain — but  the  play  of  a  borealis  in  the 
sky,  beautiful  and  bright  indeed,  but  distant,  inopera- 
tive, and  cold.  If  the  prophets  of  old,  who  were  but 
acolytes  swinging  their  lamps  and  singing  their  songs 
before  the  coming  Christ,  were  allowed  to  attest  their 
commission  by  occasional  enduements  of  miraculous 
power,  must  not  the  Christ  Himself  prove  His  super- 


A  SABBATH  IN  GALILEE.  149 

humanity  by  fuller  measures  and  exhibitions  of  the 
same  power  ?  And  where  can  He  manifest  this  so 
well  as  in  connection  with  the  world's  suffering,  need, 
and  pain?  Here  is  a  background  prepared,  and  all 
dark  enough  in  sooth  ;  where  can  He  write  so  well 
that  men  may  read  His  messages  of  good-will,  love,  and 
peace?  Where  can  He  put  His  sign  manual,  His 
Divine  autograph,  better  than  on  this  firmament  of 
human  sorrow,  disease,  and  woe?  And  so  the  miracles 
of  healing  fall  naturally  into  the  story ;  they  are  the 
natural  and  necessary  accompaniments  of  the  Divine 
life  upon  earth. 

The  first  miracle  that  Jesus  wrought  was  in  the 
home  at  Cana  ;  His  first  miracle  of  healing  was  in  the 
synagogue.  He  thus  placed  Himself  in  the  two  pivotal 
centres  of  our  earthly  life;  for  that  life,  with  its 
heavenward  and  earthward  aspects,  revolves  about  the 
synagogue  and  the  home.  He  touches  our  human  life 
alike  on  its  temporal  and  its  spiritual  side.  To  a 
nature  like  that  of  Jesus,  which  had  an  intense  love 
for  what  was  real  and  true,  and  as  intense  a  scorn  for 
what  was  superficial  and  unreal,  it  would  seem  as  if 
a  Hebrew  synagogue  would  offer  but  few  attractions. 
True,  it  served  as  the  visible  symbol  of  religion ;  it  was 
the  shrine  where  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  spoke ; 
what  spiritual  life  there  was  circled  and  eddied  around 
its  door;  while  its  walls,  pointing  to  Jerusalem,  kept 
the  scattered  populations  in  touch  with  the  Temple, 
that  marbled  dream  of  Hebraism  ;  but  in  saying  this 
we  say  nearly  all.  The  tides  of  worldliness  and 
formality,  which,  sweeping  through  the  Temple  gates, 
had  left  a  scum  of  mire  even  upon  the  sacred  courts, 
chilling  devotion  and  almost  extinguishing  faith,  had 
swept  over  the  threshold  of  the  synagogue.     There  the 


150  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

scribes  had  usurped  Moses'  seat,  exalting  Tradition 
as  a  sort  of  essence  of  Scripture,  and  deadening  the 
majestic  voices  of  the  law  in  the  jargon  of  their  vain 
repetitions.  But  Jesus  does  not  absent  Himself  from 
the  service  of  the  synagogue  because  the  fires  upon  its 
altars  are  dulled  and  quenched  by  the  down-draught  of 
the  times.  To  Him  it  is  the  house  of  God,  and  if 
others  see  it  not,  He  sees  a  ladder  of  light,  with  as- 
cending and  descending  angels.  If  others  hear  but  the 
voices  of  man,  all  broken  and  confused,  He  hears  the 
Diviner  voice,  still  and  small;  He  hears  the  music 
of  the  heavenly  host,  throwing  down  their  Glorias  upon 
earth.  The  pure  in  heart  can  find  and  see  God  any- 
where. He  who  worships  truly  carries  his  Holy  of 
holies  within  him.  He  who  takes  his  own  fire  need 
never  complain  of  the  cold,  and  with  wood  and  fire  all 
prepared,  he  can  find  or  he  can  build  an  altar  upon 
any  mount.  Happy  is  the  soul  that  has  learned  to 
lean  upon  God,  who  can  say,  amid  all  the  distractions 
and  interventions  of  man,  "  My  soul,  wait  thou  only 
upon  God."  To  such  a  one,  whose  soul  is  athirst  for 
God,  the  Valley  of  Baca  becomes  a  well,  while  the  hot 
rock  pours  out  its  streams  of  blessing.  The  art  of 
worship  avails  nothing  if  the  heart  of  worship  is  gone ; 
but  if  that  remain,  subtle  attractions  will  ever  draw  it 
to  the  place  where  "  His  name  is  recorded,  and  where 
His  honour  dwelleth." 

In  his  earlier  chapters  St.  Luke  is  careful  to  light 
his  Sabbath  lamp,  telling  that  such  and  such  miracles 
were  wrought  on  that  day,  because  the  Sabbath  ques- 
tion was  one  on  which  Jesus  soon  came  into  collision 
with  the  Pharisees.  By  their  traditions,  and  the  withs 
of  dry  and  sharp  legalities,  they  had  strangled  the 
Sabbath,  until  life  was  well-nigh  extinct.     They  had 


A  SABBATH  IN  GALILEE.  151 


made  rigorous  and  exacting  what  God  had  made 
bright  and  restful,  fencing  it  around  with  negations, 
and  burdening  it  with  penalties.  Jesus  broke  the  withs 
that  bound  her,  let  the  freer  air  play  upon  her  face, 
and  then  led  her  back  to  the  sweet  liberties  of  her 
earlier  years.     How  He  does  it  the  sequel  will  show. 

The  Sabbath  morning  finds  Jesus  repairing  to  the 
synagogue  at  Capernaum,  a  sanctuary  built  by  a 
Gentile  centurion,  and  presided  over  by  Jairus,  both  of 
whom  are  yet  to  be  brought  into  close  personal  rela- 
tionship with  Christ.  From  the  silence  of  the  narrative 
we  should  infer  that  the  courtesy  offered  at  Nazareth 
was  not  repeated  at  Capernaum — that  of  being  invited 
to  read  the  lesson  from  the  Book  of  the  Prophets.  But 
whether  so  or  not,  He  was  allowed  to  address  the  con- 
gregation, a  privilege  which  was  often  accorded  to  any 
eminent  stranger  who  might  be  present.  Of  the  subject 
of  the  discourse  we  know  nothing.  Possibly  it  was 
suggested  by  some  passing  scene  or  incident,  as  the 
sculptured  pot  of  manna,  in  this  same  synagogue,  called 
forth  the  remarkable  address  about  the  earthly  and  the 
heavenly  bread  (John  vi.  31).  But  if  the  substance  of 
the  discourse  is  lost  to  us,  its  effect  is  not.  It  awoke 
the  same  feeling  of  surprise  at  Capernaum  as  it  had 
done  before  among  the  more  rustic  minds  of  Nazareth. 
There,  however,  it  was  the  graciousness  of  His  words, 
their  mingled  "  sweetness  and  light,"  which  so  caused 
them  to  wonder ;  here  at  Capernaum  it  was  the  "au- 
thority "  with  which  He  spoke  that  so  astonished  them, 
so  different  from  the  speech  of  the  scribes,  which,  for  the 
most  part,  was  but  an  iteration  of  quibbles  and  triviali- 
ties, with  just  as  much  of  originality  as  the  "  old  clo'  " 
cries  of  our  modern  streets.  The  speech  of  Jesus  came 
as  a  breath   from   the  upper  air ;    it  was  the    intense 


152  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

language  of  One  who  possessed  the  truth,  and  who 
was  Himself  possessed  by  the  truth.  He  dealt  in 
principles,  not  platitudes  ;  in  eternal  facts,  and  not  in  the 
fancies  of  gossamer  that  tradition  so  delighted  to  spin. 
Others  might  speak  with  the  hesitancy  of  doubt ;  Jesus 
spoke  in  "  verilys  "  and  verities,  the  very  essences  of 
truth.  And  so  His  word  fell  upon  the  ears  of  men  with 
the  tones  of  an  oracle ;  they  felt  themselves  addressed 
by  the  unseen  Deity  who  was  behind  ;  they  had  not 
learned,  as  we  have,  that  the  Deity  of  their  oracle  was 
within.  No  wonder  that  they  are  astonished  at  His 
authority — an  authority  so  perfectly  free  from  any 
assumptions  ;  they  will  wonder  still  more  when  they 
find  that  demons,  too,  recognize  this  authority,  and 
obey  it. 

While  Jesus  was  still  speaking — the  tense  of  the 
verb  implies  an  unfinished  discourse — suddenly  He  was 
interrupted  by  a  loud,  wild  shout :  "Ah,  what  have  we 
to  do  with  Thee,  Thou  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ?  Art  Thou 
come  to  destroy  us  ?  I  know  Thee,  who  Thou  art,  the 
Holy  One  of  God."  It  was  the  cry  of  a  man  who,  as 
our  Evangelist  expresses  it,  "  had  a  spirit  of  an  unclean 
devil."  The  phrase  is  a  singular  one,  in  fact  unique, 
and  savours  a  little  of  tautology  ;  for  St.  Luke  uses 
the  words  "  spirit "  and  "  devil "  as  synonyms  (ix.  39). 
Later  in  his  Gospel  he  would  simply  have  said  "he 
had  an  unclean  devil ; "  why,  then,  does  he  here  amplify 
the  phrase,  and  say  he  had  "a  spirit  of  an  unclean 
devil  "  ?  We  can,  of  course,  only  conjecture,  but  might 
it  not  be  because  to  the  Gentile  mind — to  which  he  is 
writing — the  powers  of  evil  were  represented  as  per- 
sonifications, having  a  corporeal  existence  ?  And  so 
in  his  first  reference  to  demoniacal  possession  he  pauses 
to  explain  that  these  demons  are  evil  "  spirits,"  with 


A  SABBATH  IN  GALILEE,  153 

existences  altogether  separate  from  the  diseased  hu- 
manity which  temporarily  they  were  allowed  to  inhabit 
and  to  rule.  Neither  can  we  determine  with  certainty 
the  meaning  of  the  phrase  "  an  unclean  devil/'  though 
probably  it  was  so  called  because  it  drove  its  victim  to 
haunt  unclean  places,  like  the  Gadarene,  who  had  his 
dwelling  among  the  tombs. 

The  whole  subject  of  demonology  has  been  called  in 
question  by  certain  modern  critics.  They  aver  that  it 
is  simply  an  after-growth  of  Paganism,  the  seeds  of 
worn-out  mythologies  which  had  been  blown  over  into 
the  Christian  mind  ;  and  eliminating  from  them  all  that 
is  supernatural,  they  reduce  the  so-called  "posses- 
sions "  to  the  natural  effects  of  purely  natural  causes, 
physical  and  mental.  It  is  confessedly  a  subject  diffi- 
cult as  it  is  mysterious ;  but  we  are  not  inclined,  at 
the  bidding  of  rationalistic  clamour,  so  to  strike  out 
the  supernatural.  Indeed,  we  cannot,  without  impaling 
ourselves  upon  this  dilemma,  that  Jesus,  knowingly  or 
unknowingly,  taught  as  the  truth  what  was  not  true. 
That  Jesus  lent  the  weight  of  His  testimony  to  the 
popular  belief  is  evident ;  never  once,  in  all  His  allu- 
sions, does  He  call  it  in  question,  nor  hint  that  He  is 
speaking  now  only  in  an  accommodated  sense,  borrowing 
the  accents  of  current  speech.  To  Him  the  existence 
and  presence  of  evil  spirits  was  just  as  patent  and  as 
solemn  a  fact  as  was  the  existence  of  the  arch-spirit, 
even  Satan  himself.  And  granting  the  existence  of 
evil  spirits,  who  will  show  us  the  line  of  limitation,  the 
"  Hitherto,  but  no  farther,"  where  their  influence  is 
stayed?  Have  we  not  seen,  in  mesmerism,  cases  of 
real  possession,  where  the  weaker  human  will  has  been 
completely  overpowered  by  the  stronger  will  ?  when 
the  subject  was  no  longer  himself,  but  his  thoughts, 


154  THE  CQSFEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

words,  and  acts  were  those  of  another  ?  And  are  there 
not,  in  the  experiences  of  all  medical  men,  and  of 
ministers  of  religion,  cases  of  depravity  so  utterly  foul 
and  loathsome  that  they  cannot  be  explained  except 
by  the  Jewish  taunt,  "  I'le  hath  a  devil "  ?  According 
to  the  teaching  of  Scripture,  the  evil  spirit  possessed 
the  man  in  the  entirety  of  his  being,  commanding  his 
own  spirit,  ruling  both  body  and  mind.  Now  it  touched 
the  tongue  with  a  certain  glibness  of  speech,  becoming 
a  "  spirit  of  divination,"  and  now  it  touched  it  with 
dumbness,  putting  upon  the  life  the  spell  of  an  awful 
silence.  Not  that  the  obscurity  of  the  eclipse  was 
always  the  same.  There  were  more  lucid  moments, 
the  penumbras  of  brightness,  when,  for  a  brief  interval, 
the  consciousness  seemed  to  awake,  and  the  human 
will  seemed  struggling  to  assert  itself;  as  is  seen  in  the 
occasional  dualism  of  its  speech,  when  the  "  I "  emerges 
from  the  "  we,"  only,  however,  to  be  drawn  back  again, 
to  have  its  identity  swallowed  up  as  before. 

Such  is  the  character  who,  leaving  the  graves  of  the 
dead  for  the  abodes  of  the  living,  now  breaks  through 
the  ceremonial  ban,  and  enters  the  synagogue.  Rush- 
ing wildly  within — for  we  can  scarcely  suppose  him 
to  be  a  quiet  worshipper ;  the  rules  of  the  synagogue 
would  not  have  allowed  that — and  approaching  Jesus, 
he  abruptly  breaks  in  upon  the  discourse  of  Jesus  with 
his  cry  of  mingled  fear  and  passion.  Of  the  cry  itself 
we  need  not  speak,  except  to  notice  its  question  and 
its  confession.  "  Art  Thou  come  to  destroy  us  ?  "  he 
asks,  as  if,  somehow,  the  secret  of  the  Redeemer's 
mission  had  been  told  to  these  powers  of  darkness. 
Did  they  know  that  He  had  come  to  u  destroy  "  the 
works  of  the  devil,  and  ultimately  to  destroy,  with  an 
everlasting   destruction,  him   who   had   the   power   of 


A  SABBATH  IN  GALILEE.  155 

death,  that  is,  the  devil  ?  Possibly  they  did,  for,  citizens 
of  two  worlds,  the  visible  and  the  invisible,  should  not 
their  horizon  be  wider  than  our  own  ?  At  any  rate, 
their  knowledge,  in  some  points,  was  in  advance  of  the 
nascent  faith  of  the  disciples.  They  knew  and  con- 
fessed the  Divinity  of  Christ's  mission,  and  the  Divinity 
of  His  Person,  crying,  "  I  know  Thee,  who  Thou  art, 
the  Holy  One  of  God; "  "  Thou  art  the  Son  of  God  " 
(iv.  41),  when  as  yet  the  faith  of  the  disciples  was  only 
a  nebula  of  mist,  made  up  in  part  of  unreal  hopes  and 
random  guesses.  Indeed,  we  seldom  find  the  demons 
yielding  to  the  power  of  Christ,  or  to  the  delegated 
power  of  His  disciples,  but  they  make  their  confession 
of  superior  knowledge  as  if  they  possessed  a  more 
intimate  acquaintance  with  Christ.  "  Jesus  I  know, 
and  Paul  I  know,"  said  the  demon,  which  the  sons  of 
Sceva  could  not  exorcise  (Acts  xix.  15),  while  now  the 
demon  of  Capernaum  boasts,  "  I  know  Thee,  who  Thou 
art,  the  Holy  One  of  God."  Nor  was  it  a  vain  boast 
either,  for  our  Evangelist  asserts  that  Jesus  did  not 
suffer  the  demons  to  speak,  "  because  they  knew  that 
He  was  the  Christ"  (ver.  41).  They  knew  Jesus,  but 
they  feared  and  hated  Him.  In  a  certain  sense  they 
believed,  but  their  belief  only  caused  them  to  tremble, 
while  it  left  them  demons  still.     Just  so  is  it  now : — 

"There  are,  too,  who  believe  in  hell  and  lie ; 
There  are  who  waste  their  souls  in  working  out 
Life's  problem,  on  these  sands  betwixt  two  tides, 
And  end,  'Nov/  give  us  the  beasts'  part,  in  death.'" 

Saving  faith  is  thus  more  than  a  bare  assent  of  the 
mind,  more  than  some  cold  belief,  or  vain  repetition 
of  a  creed.  A  creed  may  be  complete  and  beautiful, 
but  it  is  not  the  Christ;  it  is  only  the  vesture  the 
Christ  wears ;  and  alas,  there  are  many  still  who  will 


*56  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

chaffer  about,  and  cast  lots  for,  a  creed,  who  will  go 
directly  and  crucify  the  Christ  Himself!  The  faith 
that  saves,  besides  the  assent  of  the  mind,  must  have 
the  consent  of  the  will  and  the  surrender  of  the  life. 
It  is  "  with  the  heart,"  and  not  only  with  the  mind, 
man  "  believe th  unto  righteousness." 

The  interruption  brought  the  discourse  of  Jesus  to 
an  abrupt  end,  but  it  served  to  point  the  discourse 
with  further  exclamations  of  surprise,  while  it  offered 
space  for  a  new  manifestation  of  Divine  authority  and 
power.  It  did  not  in  the  least  disconcert  the  Master, 
though  it  had  doubtless  sent  a  thrill  of  excitement 
through  the  whole  congregation.  He  did  not  even  rise 
from  His  seat  (ver.  38),  but  retaining  the  teaching  pos- 
ture, and  not  deigning  a  reply  to  the  questions  of  the 
demon,  He  rebuked  the  evil  spirit,  saying,  "  Hold  thy 
peace,  and  come  out  of  him,"  thus  recognizing  the  dual 
will,  and  distinguishing  between  the  possessor  and  the 
possessed.  The  command  was  obeyed  instantly  and 
utterly ;  though,  as  if  to  make  one  last  supreme  effort, 
he  throws  his  victim  down  upon  the  floor  of  the  syna- 
gogue, like  Samson  Agonistes,  pulling  to  the  ground 
the  temple  of  his  imprisonment.  It  was,  however,  a 
vain  attempt,  for  he  did  him  "no  hurt."  The  roaring 
lion  had  indeed  been  u  muzzled  " — which  is  the  primi- 
tive meaning  of  the  verb  rendered  "  Hold  thy  peace  " — 
by  the  omnipotent  word  of  Jesus. 

They  were  "  astonished  at  His  teaching "  before,  but 
how  much  more  so  now !  Then  it  was  a  convincing 
word ;  now  it  is  a  commanding  word.  They  hear  the 
voice  of  Jesus,  sweeping  like  suppressed  thunder  over 
the  boundaries  of  the  invisible  world,  and  commanding 
even  devils,  driving  them  forth,  just  with  one  rebuke, 
from  the  temple  of  the  human  soul,  as  afterwards  He 


A  SABBATH  IN  GALILEE.  157 

drove  the  traders  from  His  Father's  house  with  His 
whip  of  small  cords.  No  wonder  that  "amazement 
came  upon  all,"  or  that  they  asked,  "What  is  this 
word  ?  for  with  authority  and  power  He  commandeth 
the  unclean  spirits,  and  they  come  out." 

And  so  Jesus  began  His  miracles  of  healing  at  the 
outmost  marge  of  human  misery.  With  the  finger  of 
His  love,  with  the  touch  of  His  omnipotence,  He  swept 
the  uttermost  circle  of  our  human  need,  writing  on 
that  far  and  low  horizon  His  wonderful  name,  "  Mighty 
to  Save."  And  since  none  are  outcasts  from  His  mercy 
save  those  who  outcast  themselves,  why  should  we 
limit  "the  Holy  One  of  Israel"?  why  should  we 
despair  of  any?     Life  and  hope  should  be  coeval. 

Immediately  on  retiring  from  the  synagogue,  Jesus 
passes  out  of  Capernaum,  and  along  the  shore  to  Beth- 
saida,  and  enters,  together  with  James  and  John,  the 
house  of  Peter  and  Andrew  (John  i.  44).  It  is  a 
singular  coincidence  that  the  Apostle  Peter,  with  whose 
name  the  Romish  Church  takes  such  liberties,  and 
who  is  himself  the  "  Rock "  on  which  they  rear  their 
huge  fabric  of  priestly  assumptions,  should  be  the  only 
Apostle  of  whose  married  life  we  read ;  for  though  John 
afterwards  possesses  a  "  home,"  its  only  inmate  besides, 
as  far  as  the  records  show,  is  the  new  "  mother "  he 
leads  away  from  the  cross.  It  is  true  we  have  not  the 
name  of  Peter's  wife,  but  we  find  her  shadow,  as  well 
as  that  of  her  husband,  thrown  across  the  pages  of  the 
New  Testament;  cleaving  to  her  mother  even  while 
she  follows  another;  ministering  to  Jesus,  and  for  a 
time  finding  Him  a  home;  while  later  we  see  her 
sharing  the  privations  and  the  perils  of  her  husband's 
wandering  life  (1  Cor.  ix.  5).  Verily,  Rome  has  drifted 
far  from  the  "  Roc'x  "  of  her  anchorage,  the  example  of 


158  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 


her  patron  saint ;  and  between  the  Vatican  of  the 
modern  Pontiff  and  the  sweet  domesticities  of  Eef.h- 
saida  is  a  gulf  of  divergence  which  only  a  powerful 
imagination  can  cross. 

No  sooner,  however,  has  Jesus  entered  the  house 
than  He  is  told  how  Peter's  mother-in-law  has  been 
suddenly  stricken  down  by  a  violent  fever,  probably  a 
local  fever  for  which  that  lake-shore  was  notorious,  and 
which  was  bred  from  the  malaria  of  the  marsh.  Our 
physician-Evangelist  does  not  stay  to  diagnose  the 
malady,  but  he  speaks  of  it  as  "a  great  fever,"  thus 
giving  us  an  idea  of  its  virulence  and  consequent 
danger.  "And  they  besought  Him  for  her;"  not  that 
He  was  at  all  reluctant  to  grant  their  request,  for  the 
tense  of  the  verb  implies  that  once  asking  was  suffi- 
cient; but  evidently  there  was  the  "  beseeching"  look 
and  tone  of  a  mingled  love  and  fear.  Jesus  responds 
instantly ;  for  can  He  come  fresh  from  the  healing  of 
a  stranger,  to  allow  a  dread  shadow  to  darken  the 
home  and  the  hearts  of  His  own  ?  Seeking  the  sick 
chamber,  He  bends  over  the  fever-stricken  one,  and 
taking  her  hand  in  His  (Mark  i.  31),  He  speaks  some 
word  of  command,  u  rebuking  the  fever,"  as  St.  Luke 
expresses  it.  In  a  moment  the  fatal  fire  is  quenched, 
the  throbbing  heart  regains  its  normal  beat,  a  delicious 
coolness  takes  the  place  of  the  burning  heat,  while 
the  fever-flush  steals  away  to  make  place  for  the  bloom 
of  health.  The  cure  was  perfect  and  instant.  The 
lost  strength  returned,  and  "  immediately  she  arose 
and  ministered  unto  them,"  preparing,  doubtless,  the 
evening  meal. 

May  we  not  throw  the  light  of  this  narrative  upon 
one  of  the  questions  of  the  day  ?  Men  speak  of  the 
reign  of  law,  and  the  drift  of  modern  scientific  thought 


A  SABBATH  IN  GALILEE.  159 

is  against  any  interference — even  Divine — with  the 
ordinary  operations  of  physical  law.  As  the  visible 
universe  is  opened  up  and  explored  the  heavens  are 
crowded  back  and  back,  until  they  seem  nothing  but 
a  golden  mist,  some  distant  dream.  Nature's  laws  are 
seen  to  be  so  uniform,  so  ruthlessly  exact,  that  certain 
of  those  who  should  be  teachers  of  a  higher  faith  are 
suggesting  the  impossibility  of  any  interference  with 
their  ordinary  operations.  "  You  do  but  waste  your 
breath,"  they  say,  "  in  asking  for  any  immunities  from 
Nature's  penalties,  or  for  any  deviation  from  her  fixed 
rules.  They  are  invariable,  inviolate.  Be  content 
rather  to  be  conformed,  mentally  and  morally,  to  God's 
will."  But  is  prayer  to  have  so  restricted  an  area? 
is  the  physical  world  to  be  buried  so  deep  in  "law" 
that  it  shall  give  no  rest  to  prayer,  not  even  for  the 
sole  of  her  foot  ?  Entire  conformity  to  God's  will  is, 
indeed,  the  highest  aim  and  privilege  of  life,  and  he 
who  prays  the  most  seeks  most  for  this ;  but  has  God 
no  will  in  the  world  of  physics,  in  the  realm  of  matter  ? 
Shall  we  push  Him  back  to  the  narrow  ledge  of  a 
primal  Genesis?  or  shall  we  leave  Him  chained  to 
that  frontier  coast,  another  Prometheus  bound?  It  is 
well  to  respect  and  to  honour  law,  but  Nature's  laws 
are  complex,  manifold.  They  can  form  combinations 
numberless,  working  different  or  opposite  results.  He 
who  searches  for  "  the  springs  of  life  "  will 

"Reach  the  law  within  the  law  ;** 

and  who  can  tell  whether  there  is  not  a  law  of  prayer 
and  faith,  thrown  by  the  Unseen  Hand  across  all  the 
warp  of  created  things,  binding  "the  whole  round 
earth  "  about  "  the  feet  of  God  "  ?  Reason  says,  "  It 
might  be  so,"  and   Scripture  says,  "  It  is  so."     Was 


160  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

Jesus  angry  when  they  told  Him  of  the  fever-stricken, 
and  they  implored  His  intervention  ?  Did  He  say, 
"You  mistake  My  mission.  I  must  not  interfere  with 
the  course  of  the  fever;  it  must  have  its  range.  It 
she  lives,  she  lives ;  and  if  she  dies,  she  dies ;  and 
whether  the  one  or  the  other,  you  must  be  patient, 
you  must  be  content"  ?  But  such  were  not  the  words 
of  Jesus,  with  their  latent  fatalism.  He  heard  the 
prayer,  and  at  once  granted  it,  not  by  annulling 
Nature's  laws,  nor  even  suspending  them,  but  by  intro- 
ducing a  higher  law.  Even  though  the  fever  was  the 
result  of  natural  causes,  and  though  it  probably  might 
have  been  prevented,  had  they  but  drained  the  marsh 
or  planted  it  with  the  eucalyptus,  yet  this  does  not 
shut  out  all  interventions  of  Divine  mercy.  The  Divine 
compassion  makes  some  allowance  for  our  human 
ignorance,  when  it  is  not  wilful,  and  for  our  human 
impotence. 

The  fever  "left  her,  and  immediately  she  rose  up 
and  ministered  unto  them."  Yes,  and  there  are  fevers 
of  the  spirit  as  well  as  of  the  flesh,  when  the  heart 
is  quick  and  flurried,  the  brain  hot  with  anxious 
thought,  when  the  fret  and  jar  of  life  seem  eating  our 
strength  away,  and  our  disquiet  spirit  finds  its  rest 
broken  by  the  pressure  of  some  fearful  nightmare.  And 
how  soon  does  this  soul-fever  strike  us  down  !  how 
it  unfits  us  for  our  ministry  of  blessing,  robbing  us  of 
the  "heart  at  leisure  from  itself,"  and  filling  the  soul 
with  sad,  distressing  fears,  until  our  life  seems  like 
the  helpless,  withered  leaf,  whirled  and  tossed  hither 
and  thither  by  the  wind !  For  the  fever  of  the  body 
there  may  not  always  be  relief,  but  for  the  fever  of 
the  spirit  there  is  a  possible  and  a  perfect  cure.  It  is 
the  touch  of  Jesus.     A  close  personal  contact  with  the 


A   SABBATH  IN  GALILEE.  161 

living  and  loving  Christ  will  rebuke  the  fever  of  your 
heart ;  it  will  give  to  your  soul  a  quietness  and  rest- 
fulness  that  are  Divine  ;  and  with  the  touch  of  His 
omnipotence  upon  you,  and  with  all  the  elation  of  con- 
scious strength,  you  too  will  arise  into  a  nobler  life, 
a  life  which  will  find  its  supremest  joy  in  ministering 
unto  others,  and  so  ministering  unto  Him. 

Such  was  the  Sabbath  in  Galilee  in  which  Jesus 
began  His  miracles  of  healing.  But  if  it  saw  the 
beginning  of  His  miracles,  it  did  not  see  their  end  ; 
for  soon  as  the  sun  had  set,  and  the  Sabbath  restraint 
was  over,  "all  that  had  any  sick  with  divers  diseases 
brought  them  unto  Him,  and  He  laid  His  hands  on 
every  one  of  them,  and  healed  them."  A  marvellous 
ending  of  a  marvellous  day !  Jesus  throws  out  by 
handfuls  His  largesse  of  blessing,  health,  which  is  the 
highest  wealth,  showing  that  there  is  no  end  to  His 
power,  as  there  is  no  limit  to  His  love ;  that  His  will 
is  supreme  over  all  forces  and  all  laws;  that  He  is, 
and  ever  will  be,  the  perfect  Saviour,  binding  up  the 
broken  in  heart,  assuaging  all  griefs,  and  healing  all 
wounds  1 


II 


CHAP'iER  X. 
THE  CALLING  OF  THE  FOUR. 

WHEN  Peter  and  his  companions  had  the  interview 
with  Jesus  by  the  Jordan,  and  were  summoned 
to  follow  Him,  it  was  the  designation,  rather  than  the 
appointment,  to  the  Apostleship.  They  did  accompany 
Him  to  Cana,  and  thence  to  Capernaum  ;  but  here  their 
paths  diverged  for  a  time,  Jesus  passing  on  alone  to 
Nazareth,  while  the  novitiate  disciples  fall  back  again 
into  the  routine  of  secular  life.  Now,  however,  His 
mission  is  fairly  inaugurated,  and  He  must  attach  them 
permanently  to  His  person.  He  must  lay  His  hand, 
where  His  thoughts  have  long  been,  upon  the  future, 
making  provision  for  the  stability  and  permanence  of 
His  work,  that  so  the  kingdom  may  survive  and 
flourish  when  the  Ascension  clouds  have  made  the 
King  Himself  invisible. 

St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark  insert  their  abridged 
narrative  of  the  call  before  the  healing  of  the  demoniac 
and  the  cure  of  Peter's  mother-in-law ;  and  most  expo- 
sitors think  that  St.  Luke's  setting  "  in  order,"  in  this 
case  at  least,  is  wrong ;  that  he  has  preferred  to  have  a 
chronological  inaccuracy,  so  that  His  miracles  may  be 
gathered  into  related  groups.  But  that  our  Evangelist 
is  in  error  is  by  no  means  certain;  indeed,  we  are 
inclined  to  think  that  the  balance  of  probability  is  on 
the  side  of  his  arrangement.    How  else  shall  we  account 


THE  CALLING  OF  THE  FOUR.  163 

for  the  crowds  who  now  press  upon  Jesus  so  importu- 
nately and  with  such  Galilean  ardour  ?  It  was  not  the 
rumour  of  His  Judsean  miracles  which  had  awoke  this 
tempest  of  excitement,  for  the  journey  to  Jerusalem  was 
not  yet  taken.  And  what  else  could  it  be,  if  the  miracu- 
lous draught  of  fishes  was  the  first  of  the  Capernaum 
miracles  ?  But  suppose  that  we  retain  the  order  of 
St.  Luke,  that  the  call  followed  closely  upon  that 
memorable  Sabbath,  then  the  crowds  fall  into  the  story 
naturally;  it  is  the  multitude  which  had  gathered  about 
the  door  when  the  Sabbath  sun  had  set,  putting  an 
after-glow  upon  the  hills,  and  on  whose  sick  He 
wrought  His  miracles  of  healing.  Nor  does  the  fact 
that  Jesus  went  to  be  a  guest  in  Peter's  house  require 
us  to  invert  the  order  of  St.  Luke;  for  the  casual 
acquaintance  by  the  Jordan  had  since  ripened  into 
intimacy,  so  that  Peter  would  naturally  offer  hospitality 
to  his  Master  on  His  coming  to  Capernaum.  Again,  too, 
going  back  to  the  Sabbath  in  the  synagogue,  we  read 
how  they  were  astonished  at  His  doctrine ;  "  for  His 
word  was  with  authority ; "  and  when  that  astonishment 
was  heightened  into  amazement,  as  they  saw  the  demon 
cowed  and  silenced,  this  was  their  exclamation,  u  What 
a  v/crd  is  this  ! "  And  does  not  Peter  refer  to  this,  when 
the  same  voice  that  commanded  the  demon  now  com- 
mands them  to  "  Let  down  the  nets,"  and  he  answers, 
"At  Thy  word  I  will"?  It  certainly  seems  as  if  the 
"  word "  of  the  sea-shore  were  an  echo  from  the 
synagogue,  and  so  a  "  word  "  that  justifies  the  order  of 
our  Evangelist. 

It  was  probably  still  early  in  the  morning — for  the 
days  of  Jesus  began  back  at  the  dawn,  and  very  often 
before — when  He  sought  the  quiet  of  the  sea-shore, 
possibly  to  find  a  still  hour  for  devotion,  or  perhaps  to 


164  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

see  how  His  friends  had  fared  with  their  all-night 
fishing.  Little  quiet,  however,  could  He  find,  for  from 
Capernaum  and  Bethsaida  comes  a  hurrying  and  intru- 
sive crowd,  surging  around  Him  with  the  swirl  and 
roar  of  confused  voices,  and  pressing  inconveniently 
near.  Not  that  the  crowd  was  hostile ;  it  was  a  friendly 
but  inquisitive  multitude,  eager,  not  so  much  to  see  a 
repetition  of  His  miracles,  as  to  hear  Him  speak,  in 
those  rare,  sweet  accents,  "the  word  of  God."  The 
expression  characterizes  the  whole  teaching  of  Jesus. 
Though  His  words  were  meant  for  earth,  for  human 
ears  and  for  human  hearts,  there  was  no  earthiiness 
about  them.  On  the  topics  in  which  man  is  most 
exercised  and  garrulous,  such  as  local  or  national 
events,  Jesus  is  strangely  silent.  He  scarcely  gives 
them  a  passing  thought ;  for  what  were  the  events  of 
the  day  to  Him  who  was  "  before  Abraham,"  and  who 
saw  the  two  eternities  ?  what  to  Him  was  the  gossip 
of  the  hour,  how  Rome's  armies  marched  and  fought,  or 
how  "  the  dogs  of  faction  "  bayed  ?  To  His  mind  these 
were  but  as  dust  caught  in  the  eddies  of  the  wind.  The 
thoughts  of  Jesus  were  high.  Like  the  figures  of  the 
prophet's  vision,  they  had  feet  indeed,  so  that  they 
could  alight  and  rest  awhile  on  earthly  things — though 
even  here  they  only  touched  earth  at  points  which 
were  common  to  humanity,  and  they  were  winged,  too, 
having  the  sweep  of  the  lower  spaces  and  of  the  highest 
heavens.  And  so  there  was  a  heavenliness  upon  the 
words  of  Jesus,  and  a  sweetness,  as  if  celestial  har- 
monies were  imprisoned  within  them.  They  set  men 
looking  upwards,  and  listening ;  for  the  heavens  seemed 
nearer  as  He  spoke,  and  they  were  no  longer  dumb. 
And  not  only  did  the  words  of  Jesus  bring  to  men  a  clearer 
revelation  of  God,  correcting  the  hard  views  which  man, 


THE  CALLING  OF  THE  FOUR,  165 

in  his  fears  and  his  sins,  had  formed  of  Him,  but  men 
felt  the  Divineness  of  His  speech ;  that  Jesus  was  the 
Bearer  of  a  new  evangel,  God's  latest  message  of  hope 
and  love.  And  He  was  the  Bearer  of  such  a  message , 
He  was  Himself  that  Evangel,  the  Word  of  God 
incarnate,  that  men  might  hear  of  heavenly  things  in 
the  common  accents  of  earthly  speech. 

Nor  was  Jesus  loth  to  deliver  His  message;  He 
needed  no  constraining  to  speak  of  the  things  pertaining 
to  the  kingdom  of  God.  Only  let  Him  see  the  listening 
heart,  the  void  of  a  sincere  longing,  and  His  speech 
distilled  as  the  dew.  And  so  no  time  was  to  Him 
inopportune;  the  break  of  day,  the  noon,  the  night 
were  all  alike  to  Him.  No  place  was  out  of  harmony 
with  His  message — the  Temple-court,  the  synagogue, 
the  domestic  hearth,  the  mountain,  the  lake-shore ;  He 
consecrated  all  alike  with  the  music  of  His  speech. 
Nay,  even  upon  the  cross,  amid  its  agonies,  He  opens 
His  lips  once  more,  though  parched  with  terrible  thirst, 
to  speak  peace  within  a  penitent  soul,  and  to  open  for  it 
the  gate  of  Paradise. 

Drawn  up  on  the  shore,  close  by  the  water's  edge, 
are  two  boats,  empty  now,  for  Simon  and  his  partners 
are  busy  washing  their  nets,  after  their  night  of  fruitless 
toil.  Seeking  for  freer  space  than  the  pushing  crowd 
will  allow  Him,  and  also  wanting  a  point  of  vantage, 
where  His  voice  will  command  a  wider  range  of 
listeners,  Jesus  gets  into  Simon's  boat,  and  requests 
him  to  put  out  a  little  from  the  land.  "  And  He  sat 
down,  and  taught  the  multitudes  out  of  the  boat," 
assuming  the  posture  of  the  teacher,  even  though  the 
occasion  partook  so  largely  of  the  impromptu  character. 
When  He  dispensed  the  material  bread  He  made  the 
multitudes  "  sit  down ;  "  but  when  He  dispensed   the 


166  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

living  bread,  the  heavenly  manna,  He  left  the  multitudes 
standing,  while  He  Himself  sat  down,  so  claiming  the 
authority  of  a  Master,  as  His  posture  emphasized  His 
words.  It  is  somewhat  singular  that  when  our  Evan- 
gelist has  been  so  careful  and  minute  in  his  description 
of  the  scene,  giving  us  a  sort  of  photograph  of  that  lake- 
side group,  with  bits  of  artistic  colouring  thrown  in, 
that  then  he  should  omit  entirely  the  subject-matter  of 
the  discourse.  But  so  he  does,  and  we  try  in  vain  to 
fill  up  the  blank.  Did  He,  as  at  Nazareth,  turn  the 
lamps  of  prophecy  full  upon  Himself,  and  tell  them 
how  the  "  great  Light "  had  at  last  risen  upon  Galilee 
of  the  nations  ?  or  did  He  let  His  speech  reflect  the 
shimmer  of  the  lake,  as  He  told  in  parable  how  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  was  "  like  unto  a  net  that  was  cast 
into  the  sea,  and  gathered  of  every  kind  "  ?  Possibly 
He  did,  but  His  words,  whatever  they  were,  "  like  the 
pipes  of  Pan,  died  with  the  ears  and  hearts  of  those 
who  heard  them." 

"  When  He  had  left  speaking,"  having  dismissed  the 
multitude  with  His  benediction,  He  turns  to  give  to  His 
future  disciples,  Peter  and  Andrew,  a  private  lesson. 
"Put  out  into  the  deep,"  He  said,  including  Andrew 
now  in  His  plural  imperative,  "and  let  down  your  nets 
for  a  draught."  It  was  a  commanding  voice,  altogether 
different  in  its  tone  from  the  last  words  He  addressed 
to  Peter,  when  He  "requested  "  him  to  put  out  a  little 
from  the  land.  Then  He  spoke  as  the  Friend,  possibly 
the  Guest,  with  a  certain  amount  of  deference ;  now  He 
steps  up  to  a  very  throne  of  power,  a  throne  which  in 
Peter's  life  He  never  more  abdicates.  Simon  recognizes 
the  altered  conditions,  that  a  Higher  Will  is  now  in  the 
boat,  where  hitherto  his  own  will  has  been  supreme ; 
and  saluting  Him  as  "  Master,"  he  says,  "  We  toiled  all 


THE  CALLING  OF  THE  FOUR.  167 

night,  and  took  nothing ;  but  at  Thy  word  I  will  let 
down  the  nets."  He  does  not  demur;  he  does  not 
hesitate  one  moment.  Though  himself  weary  with  his 
night-long  labours,  and  though  the  command  of  the 
Master  went  directly  against  his  nautical  experiences, 
he  sinks  his  thoughts  and  his  doubts  in  the  word  of 
his  Lord.  It  is  true  he  speaks  of  the  failure  of  the 
night,  how  they  have  taken  nothing;  but  instead  of 
making  that  a  plea  for  hesitancy  and  doubt,  it  is  the 
foil  to  make  his  unquestioning  faith  stand  out  in  bolder 
relief.  Peter  was  the  man  of  impulse,  the  man  of 
action,  with  a  swift-beating  heart  and  an  ever-ready 
hand.  To  his  forward-stepping  mind  decision  was 
easy  and  immediate ;  and  so,  almost  before  the  com- 
mand was  completed,  his  swift  lips  had  made  answer, 
M  I  will  let  down  the  nets."  It  was  the  language  of  a 
prompt  and  full  obedience.  It  showed  that  Simon's 
nature  was  responsive  and  genuine,  that  when  a 
Christly  word  struck  upon  his  soul  it  set  his  whole 
being  vibrating,  and  drove  out  all  meaner  thoughts. 
He  had  learned  to  obey,  which  was  the  first  lesson  of 
discipleship ;  and  having  learned  to  obey,  he  was  there- 
fore fit  to  rule,  qualified  for  leadership,  and  worthy  of 
being  entrusted  with  the  keys  of  the  kingdom. 

And  how  much  is  missed  in  life  through  feebleness 
of  resolve,  a  lack  of  decision !  How  many  are  the 
invertebrate  souls,  lacking  in  will  and  void  of  purpose, 
who,  instead  of  piercing  waves  and  conquering  the 
flow  of  adverse  tides,  like  the  medusae,  can  only  drift, 
all  limp  and  languid,  in  the  current  of  circumstance ! 
Such  men  do  not  make  apostles ;  they  are  but  ciphers 
of  flesh  and  blood,  of  no  value  by  themselves,  and  only 
of  any  worth  as  they  are  attached  to  the  unit  of  some 
stronger   will.     A  poor  broken   thing   is   a  life  spent 


168  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

in  the  subjunctive  mood,  among  the  "mights"  and 
"  shoulds,"  where  the  "  I  will "  waits  upon  "  I  would  "  ! 
That  is  the  truest,  worthiest  life  that  is  divided  be- 
tween the  indicative  and  the  imperative.  As  in  shak- 
ing pebbles  the  smaller  ones  drop  down  to  the  bottom, 
their  place  determined  by  their  size,  so  in  the  shaking 
together  of  human  lives,  in  the  rub  and  jostle  of  the 
world,  the  strong  wills  invariably  come  to  the  top. 

And  how  much  do  even  Christians  lose,  through 
their  partial  or  their  slow  obedience  !  How  we  hesitate 
and  question,  when  our  duty  is  simply  to  obey  !  How 
we  cling  to  our  own  ways,  modes,  and  wills,  when  the 
Christ  is  commanding  us  forward  to  some  higher 
service  !  How  strangely  we  forget  that  in  the  grammar 
of  life  the  "  Thou  wiliest "  should  be  the  first  person, 
and  the  "  I  will  "  a  far-off  second  1  When  the  soldier 
hears  the  word  of  command  he  becomes  deaf  to  all 
other  voices,  even  the  voice  of  danger,  or  the  voice  of 
death  itself;  and  when  Christ  speaks  to  us  His  word 
should  completely  fill  the  soul,  leaving  no  room  for 
hesitancy,  no  place  for  doubt.  Said  the  mother  to  the 
servants  of  Cana,  "  Whatsoever  He  saith  unto  you,  do 
it."  That  "  whatsoever  "  is  the  line  of  duty,  and  the 
line  of  beauty  too.  He  who  makes  Christ's  will  his 
will,  who  does  implicitly  "  whatsoever  He  saith,"  will 
find  a  Cana  anywhere,  where  life's  water  turns  to 
wine,  and  where  life's  common  things  are  exalted  into 
sacraments.  He  who  walks  up  to  the  light  will  surely 
walk  in  the  light. 

We  can  imagine  with  what  alacrity  Simon  obeys 
the  Master's  word,  and  how  the  disappointment  of  the 
night  and  all  sense  of  fatigue  are  lost  in  the  exhilaration 
of  the  new  hopes.  Seconded  by  the  more  quiet  Andrew, 
who  catches  the  enthusiasm  of  his  brother's  faith,  he 


THE   CALLING  OF  THE  FOUR.  169 

pulls  out  into  deep  water,  where  they  let  down  the 
nets.  Immediately  they  enclosed  "  a  great  multitude  " 
of  fishes,  a  weight  altogether  beyond  their  power  to 
lift ;  and  as  they  saw  the  nets  beginning  to  give  way 
with  the  strain,  Peter  "beckoned"  to  his  partners, 
James  and  John,  whose  boat,  probably,  was  still  drawn 
up  on  the  shore.  Coming  to  their  assistance,  together 
they  secured  the  spoil,  completely  filling  the  two  boats, 
until  they  were  in  danger  of  sinking  with  the  over- 
weight. 

Here,  then,  we  find  a  miracle  of  a  new  order.  Hitherto, 
in  the  narrative  of  our  Evangelist,  Jesus  has  shown  His 
supernatural  power  only  in  connection  with  humanity, 
driving  away  the  ills  and  diseases  which  preyed  upon 
the  human  body  and  the  human  soul.  And  not  even 
here  did  Jesus  make  use  of  that  power  randomly, 
making  it  common  and  cheap ;  it  was  called  forth  by 
the  constraint  of  a  great  need  and  a  great  desire. 
Now,  however,  there  is  neither  the  desire  nor  the  need. 
It  was  not  the  first  time,  nor  was  it  to  be  the  last,  that 
Peter  and  Andrew  had  spent  a  night  in  fruitless  toil. 
That  was  a  lesson  they  had  early  to  learn,  and  which 
they  were  never  allowed  long  to  forget.  They  had 
been  quite  content  to  leave  their  boat,  as  indeed  they 
had  intended,  on  the  sands,  until  the  evening  should 
recall  them  to  their  task.  But  Jesus  volunteers  His 
help,  and  works  a  miracle — whether  of  omnipotence,  or 
omniscience,  or  of  both,  it  matters  not,  and  not  either 
to  relieve  some  present  distress,  or  to  still  some  pain, 
but  that  He  might  fill  the  empty  boats  with  fishes. 
We  must  not,  however,  assess  the  value  of  the  miracle 
at  the  market-price  of  the  take,  for  evidently  Jesus 
had  some  ulterior  motive  and  design.  As  the  leaden 
types,  lying  detached  and  meaningless  in  the  "  case,"  can 


170  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

be  arranged  into  words  and  be  made  to  voice  the  very 
highest  thought,  so  these  boats  and  oars,  nets  and  fish 
are  but  so  many  characters,  the  Divine  "  code  "  as  we 
may  call  it,  spelling  out,  first  to  these  fishermen,  and 
then  to  mankind  in  general,  the  deep  thought  and 
purpose  of  Christ.  Can  we  discover  that  meaning? 
We  think  we  may. 

In  the  first  place,  the  miracle  shows  us  the  supremacy 
of  Christ.  We  may  almost  read  the  Divineness  of 
Christ's  mission  in  the  manner  of  its  manifestation. 
Had  Jesus  been  man  only,  His  thoughts  running  on 
human  lines,  and  His  plans  built  after  human  models, 
He  would  have  arranged  for  another  Epiphany  at  the 
beginning  of  His  ministry,  showing  His  credentials  at 
the  first,  and  announcing  in  full  the  purpose  of  His 
mission.  That  would  have  been  the  way  of  man,  fond 
as  he  is  of  surprises  and  sudden  transitions  ;  but  such 
is  not  the  way  of  God.  The  forces  of  heaven  do  not 
move  forward  in  leaps  and  somersaults ;  their  ad- 
vances are  gradual  and  rhythmic.  Evolution,  and  not 
revolution,  is  the  Divine  law,  in  the  realm  of  matter 
and  of  mind  alike.  The  dawn  must  precede  the  day. 
And  just  so  the  life  of  the  Divine  Son  is  manifested. 
He  who  is  the  "  Light  of  the  world  "  comes  into  that 
world  softly  as  a  sunrise,  lighting  up  little  by  little 
the  horizon  of  His  disciples'  thought,  lest  a  revelation 
which  was  too  full  and  too  sudden  should  only  dazzle 
and  blind  them.  So  far  they  have  seen  Him  exercise 
His  power  over  diseases  and  demons,  or,  as  at  Cana, 
over  inorganic  matter ;  now  they  see  that  power  moving 
cut  in  new  directions.  Jesus  sets  up  His  throne  to 
face  the  sea,  the  sea  with  which  they  were  so  familiar, 
and  over  which  they  claimed  some  sort  of  lordship. 
But  even  here,  upon  their  own  element,  Jesus  is  su- 


THE  CALLING  OF  THE  FOUR.  171 

preme.  He  sees  what  they  do  not ;  He  knows  these 
deeps,  filling  up  with  His  omniscience  the  blanks  they 
seek  to  fill  with  their  random  guesses.  Here,  hitherto, 
their  wills  have  been  all-powerful ;  they  could  take 
their  boats  and  cast  their  nets  just  when  and  where 
they  would  ;  but  now  they  feel  the  touch  of  a  Higher 
Will,  and  Christ's  word  fills  their  hearts,  impelling  them 
onward,  even  as  their  boats  were  driven  of  the  wind. 
Jesus  now  assumes  the  command.  His  Will,  like  a 
magnet,  attracts  to  itself  and  controls  their  lesser  wills; 
and  as  His  word  now  launches  out  the  boat  and  casts 
the  nets,  so  shortly,  at  that  same  "  word,"  will  boats 
and  nets,  and  the  sea  itself,  be  left  behind. 

And  did  not  that  Divine  Will  move  beneath  tjie 
water  as  well  as  above  it,  controlling  the  movements 
of  the  shoal  of  fishes,  as  on  the  surface  it  was  con- 
trolling the  thoughts  and  moving  the  hands  of  the 
fishermen  ?  It  is  true  that  in  Gennesaret,  as  in  our 
modern  seas,  the  fish  sometimes  moved  in  such  dense 
shoals  that  an  enormous  u  take "  would  be  an  event 
purely  natural,  a  wonder  indeed,  but  no  miracle. 
Possibly  it  was  so  here,  in  which  case  the  narrative 
would  resolve  itself  into  a  miracle  of  omniscience,  as 
Jesus  saw,  what  even  the  trained  eyes  of  the  fishermen 
had  not  seen,  the  movements  of  the  shoal,  then  regulating 
His  commands,  so  making  the  oars  above  and  the  fins 
below  strike  the  water  in  unison.  But  was  this  all  ? 
Evidently  not,  to  Peters  mind,  at  any  rate.  Had  it 
been  all  to  him,  a  purely  natural  phenomenon,  or  had 
he  seen  in  it  only  the  prescience  of  Christ,  a  vision 
somewhat  clearer  and  farther  than  his  own,  it  would 
not  have  created  such  feelings  of  surprise  and  awe. 
He  might  still  have  wondered,  but  he  scarcely  would 
have  worshipped.     But  Peter  feels  himself  in  the  pre- 


172  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

sence  of  a  Power  that  knows  no  limit,  One  who  has 
supreme  authority  over  diseases  and  demons,  and  who 
now  commands  even  the  fishes  of  the  sea.  In  this 
sudden  wealth  of  spoil  he  reads  the  majesty  and  glory 
of  the  new-found  Christ,  whose  word,  spoken  or 
unspoken,  is  omnipotent,  alike  in  the  heights  above 
and  in  the  depths  beneath.  And  so  the  moment  his 
thoughts  are  disengaged  from  the  pressing  task  he 
prostrates  himself  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  crying  with 
awe-stricken  speech,  "  Depart  from  me  ;  for  I  am  a 
sinful  man,  O  Lord  ! "  We  are  not,  perhaps,  to  inter- 
pret this  literally,  for  Peter's  lips  were  apt  to  become 
tremulous  with  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  and  to 
say  words  which  in  a  cooler  mood  he  would  recall,  or 
at  least  modify.  So  here,  it  surely  was  not  his  mean- 
ing that  "  the  Lord,"  as  he  now  calls  Jesus,  should 
leave  him  ;  for  how  indeed  should  He  depart,  now  that 
they  are  afloat  upon  the  deep,  far  from  land  ?  But 
such  had  been  the  revelation  of  the  power  and  holiness 
of  Jesus,  borne  in  by  the  miracle  upon  Peter's  soul, 
that  he  felt  himself  thrown  back,  morally  and  in  every 
way,  to  an  infinite  distance  from  Christ.  His  boat  was 
unworthy  to  carry,  as  the  house  of  the  centurion  was 
unworthy  to  receive,  such  infinite  perfections  as  now  he 
saw  in  Jesus.  It  was  an  apocalypse  indeed,  revealing, 
together  with  the  purity  and  power  of  Christ,  the 
littleness,  the  nothingness  of  his  sinful  self;  that,  as 
Elijah  covered  his  face  when  the  Lord  passed  by,  so 
Peter  feels  as  if  he  ought  to  draw  the  veil  of  an  infinite 
distance  around  himself — the  distance  which  would 
ever  be  between  him  and  the  Lord,  were  not  His 
mercy  and  His  love  just  as  infinite  as  His  power. 

The  fuller  meaning  of  the  miracle,  however,  becomes 
apparent  when  we  interpret  it  in  the  light  of  the  call 


THE  CALLING  OF  THE  FOUR.  173 

which  immediately  followed.  Reading  the  sudden  fear 
which  has  come  over  Peter's  soul,  and  which  has 
thrown  his  speech  somewhat  into  confusion,  Jesus  first 
stills  the  agitation  of  his  heart  by  a  word  of  assur- 
ance and  of  cheer.  "  Fear  not,"  He  says,  for  "  from 
henceforth  thou  shalt  catch  men."  It  will  be  observed 
that  St.  Luke  puts  the  commission  of  Christ  in  the 
singular  number,  as  addressed  to  Peter  alone,  while 
St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark  put  it  in  the  plural,  as  in- 
cluding Andrew  as  well :  "  I  will  make  you  to  become 
fishers  of  men."  The  difference,  however,  is  but  im- 
material, and  possibly  the  reason  why  St.  Luke  intro- 
duces the  Apostle  Peter  with  such  a  frequent  nomina- 
tion— for  "  Simon  "  is  a  familiar  name  in  these  early 
chapters — making  his  call  so  emphatic  and  prominent, 
was  because  in  the  partisan  times  which  came  but  too 
early  in  the  Church  the  Gentile  Christians,  for  whom 
our  Evangelist  is  writing,  might  think  unworthily  and 
speak  disparagingly  of  him  who  was  the  Apostle  of 
the  Circumcision.  Be  this  as  it  may,  Simon  and 
Andrew  are  now  summoned  to,  and  commissioned  for, 
a  higher  service.  That  "  henceforth "  strikes  across 
their  life  like  a  high  watershed,  severing  the  old  from 
the  new,  their  future  from  their  past,  and  throwing  all 
the  currents  of  their  thoughts  and  plans  into  different 
and  opposite  directions.  They  are  to  be  "fishers  of 
men,"  and  Jesus,  who  so  delights  in  giving  object- 
lessens  to  His  disciples,  uses  the  miracle  as  a  sort  of 
background,  on  which  He  may  write  their  commission 
in  large  and  lasting  characters;  it  is  the  Divine  seal 
upon  their  credentials. 

Not  that  they  understood  the  full  purport  of  His 
words  at  once.  The  phrase  "  fishers  of  men  "  was  one 
of  those  seed-thoughts  which  needed  pondering  in  the 


174  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

heart ;  it  would  gradually  unfold  itself  in  the  after- 
months  of  discipleship,  ripening  at  last  in  the  summer 
heat  and  summer  light  of  the  Pentecost.  They  were 
now  to  be  fishers  of  the  higher  art,  their  quest  the  souls 
of  men.  This  must  now  be  the  one  object,  the  supreme 
aim  of  their  life,  a  life  now  ennobled  by  a  higher  call. 
Plans,  journe}'s,  thoughts,  and  words,  all  must  bear  the 
stamp  of  their  great  commission,  which  is  to  "  catch 
men,"  not  unto  death,  however,  as  the  fish  expire  when 
taken  from  their  native  element,  but  unto  life — for  such 
is  the  meaning  of  the  word.  And  to  "take  them  alive" 
is  to  save  them ;  it  is  to  take  them  out  of  an  element 
which  stifles  and  destroys,  and  to  draw  them,  by  the 
constraints  of  truth  and  love,  within  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  which  kingdom  is  righteousness  and  life,  even 
eternal  life. 

But  if  the  full  meaning  of  the  Master's  words  grows 
upon  them — an  aftermath  to  be  harvested  in  later 
months — enough  is  understood  to  make  the  line  of 
present  duty  plain.  That  '•'  henceforth  "  is  clear,  sharp, 
and  imperative.  It  leaves  room  neither  for  excuse  nor 
postponement.  And  so  immediately,  "  when  they  had 
brought  their  boats  to  land,  they  left  all  and  followed 
Him,"  to  learn  by  following  how  they  too  might  be 
winners  of  souls,  and  in  a  lesser,  lower  sense,  saviours 
of  men. 

The  story  of  St.  Luke  closes  somewhat  abruptly, 
with  no  further  reference  to  Simon's  partners;  and 
having  "  beckoned "  them  into  his  central  scene,  and 
filled  their  boat,  then,  as  in  a  dissolving-view,  the  pen 
of  our  Evangelist  drawTs  around  them  the  haze  of 
silence,  and  they  disappear.  The  other  Synoptists, 
howrever,  fill  up  the  blank,  telling  how  Jesus  came  to 
them,  probably  later  in  the  day,  for  they  were  mending 


THE  CALLING  OF  THE  FOUR.  175 

the  nets,  which  had  been  tangled  and  somewhat  torn 
with  the  weight  of  spoil  they  had  just  taken.  Speaking 
no  word  of  explanation,  and  giving  no  word  of  promise, 
Ke  simply  says,  with  that  commanding  voice  of  His, 
'*  Follow  Me,"  thus  putting  Himself  above  ail  associa- 
tions and  all  relationships,  as  Leader  and  Lord.  James 
and  John  recognize  the  call,  for  which  doubtless  they 
had  been  prepared,  as  being  for  themselves  alone,  and 
instantly  leaving  the  father,  the  "  hired  servants/'  and 
the  half-mended  nets,  and  breaking  utterly  with  their 
past,  they  follow  Jesus,  giving  to  Him,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  one  dark,  hesitating  hour,  a  life-long  devotion. 
And  forsaking  all,  the  four  disciples  found  all.  They 
exchanged  a  dead  self  for  a  living  Christ,  earth  for 
heaven.  Following  the  Lord  fully,  with  no  side- 
glances  at  self  or  selfish  gain — at  any  rate  after  the 
enduement  and  the  enlightenment  of  Pentecost — they 
found  in  the  presence  and  friendship  of  the  Lord  the 
"  hundredfold  "  in  the  present  life.  Allying  themselves 
with  Christ,  they  too  rose  with  the  rising  Sun.  Ob- 
scure fishermen,  they  wrote  their  names  among  the 
immortals  as  the  first  Apostles  of  the  new  faith,  bearers 
of  the  "  keys "  of  the  kingdom.  Following  Christ, 
they  led  the  world ;  and  as  the  Light  that  rose  over 
Galilee  of  the  nations  becomes  ever  more  intense  and 
bright,  so  it  makes  ever  more  intense  and  vivid  the 
shadows  of  these  Galilean  fishermen,  as  it  throws  them 
across  all  lands  and  times. 

And  such  even  now  is  the  truest  and  noblest  life. 
The  life  which  is  "  hid  with  Christ "  is  the  life  that 
shines  the  farthest  and  that  tells  the  most.  Whether 
in  the  more  quiet  paths  and  scenes  of  discipleship  or 
in  the  more  responsible  and  public  duties  of  the  apos- 
tolate,  Jesus  demands  of  us  a  true,  whole-souled,  and 


176  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

life-long  devotion.  And,  here  indeed,  the  paradox  is 
true,  for  by  losing  life  we  find  it,  even  the  life  more 
abundant;  for 

11  Men  may  rise  on  stepping-stones 
Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things." 

Nay,  they  may  attain  to  the  highest  things,  even  to  the 
highest  heavens. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CONCERNING  PRAYER. 

WHEN  the  Greeks  called  man  6  avOpoarro^,  or  the 
"  uplooking  one,"  they  did  but  crystallize  in  a 
word  what  is  a  universal  fact,  the  religious  instinct  of 
humanity.  Everywhere,  and  through  all  times,  man 
has  felt,  as  by  a  sort  of  intuition,  that  earth  was  no 
Ultima  Thule,  with  nothing  beyond  but  oceans  of 
vacancy  and  silence,  but  that  it  lay  in  the  over-shadow 
of  other  worlds,  between  which  and  their  own  were 
subtle  modes  of  correspondence.  They  felt  themselves 
to  be  in  the  presence  of  Powers  other  and  higher  than 
human,  who  somehow  influenced  their  destiny,  whose 
favour  they  must  win,  and  whose  displeasure  they  must 
avert.  And  so  Paganism  reared  her  altars,  almost 
numberless,  dedicating  them  even  to  the  "  Unknown 
God,"  lest  some  anonymous  deity  should  be  grieved  at 
being  omitted  from  the  enumeration.  The  prevalence 
of  false  religions  in  the  world,  the  garrulous  babble  of 
mythology,  does  but  voice  the  religious  instinct  of 
man ;  it  is  but  another  Tower  of  Babel,  by  which  men 
hope  to  find  and  to  scale  the  heavens  which  must  be 
somewhere  overhead. 

In  the  Old  Testament,  however,  we  find  the  clearer 
revelation.  What  to  the  unaided  eye  of  reason  and  of 
nature  seemed  but  a  wave  of  golden  mist  athwart  the 

12 


178  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

sky — "  a  meeting  of  gentle  lights  without  a  name  " — now 
becomes  a  wide-reaching  and  shining  realm,  peopled 
with  intelligences  of  divers  ranks  and  orders ;  while  in 
the  centre  of  all  is  the  city  and  the  throne  of  the  Invi- 
sible King,  Jehovah,  Lord  of  Sabaoth.  In  the  breath 
of  the  new  morning  the  gossamer  threads  Polytheism 
had  been  spinning  through  the  night  were  swept  away, 
and  on  the  pillars  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  that  celestial 
city  of  which  their  own  Salem  was  a  far-off  and  broken 
type,  they  read  the  inscription,  "  Hear,  O  Israel :  the 
Lord  our  God  is  one  Lord."  But  while  the  Old  Testa- 
ment revealed  the  unity  of  the  Godhead,  it  emphasized 
especially  His  sovereignty,  the  glories  of  His  holiness, 
and  the  thunders  of  His  power.  He  is  the  great 
Creator,  arranging  His  universe,  commanding  evolu- 
tions and  revolutions,  and  giving  to  each  molecule  of 
matter  its  secret  affinities  and  repulsions.  And  again 
He  is  the  Lawgiver,  the  great  Judge,  speaking  out  of 
the  cloudy  pillar  and  the  windy  tempest,  dividing  the 
firmaments  of  Right  and  Wrong,  whose  holiness  hates 
sin  with  an  infinite  hatred,  and  whose  justice,  with 
sword  of  flame,  pursues  the  wrong-doer  like  an  unfor- 
getting  Nemesis.  It  is  only  natural,  therefore,  that  with 
such  conceptions  of  God,  the  heavens  should  appear 
distant  and  somewhat  cold.  The  quiet  that  was  upon 
the  world  was  the  hush  of  awe,  of  fear,  rather  than  of 
love ;  for  while  the  goodness  of  God  was  a  familiar  and 
favourite  theme,  and  while  the  mercy  of  God,  which 
11  endureth  for  ever,"  was  the  refrain,  oft  repeated,  of 
their  loftiest  songs,  the  love  of  God  was  a  height  the 
Old  Dispensation  had  not  explored,  and  the  Father- 
hood of  God,  that  new  world  of  perpetual  summer,  lay 
all  undiscovered,  or  but  dimly  apprehended  through  the 
mist.      The  Divine  love  and  the  Divine  Fatherhood 


CONCERNING  PRAYER.  179 


were  truths  which  seemed  to  be  held  in  reserve  for  the 
New  Dispensation  ;  and  as  the  light  needs  the  subtle 
and  sympathetic  ether  before  it  can  reach  our  outlying 
world,  so  the  love  and  the  Fatherhood  of  God  are 
borne  in  upon  us  by  Him  who  was  Himself  the  Divine 
Son  and  the  incarnation  of  the  Divine  love. 

It  is  just  here  where  the  teaching  of  Jesus  concerning 
prayer  begins.  He  does  not  seek  to  explain  its  philo- 
sophy ;  He  does  not  give  hints  as  to  any  observance 
of  time  or  place ;  but  leaving  these  questions  to  adjust 
themselves,  He  seeks  to  bring  heaven  into  closer  touch 
with  earth.  And  how  can  He  do  this  so  well  as  by 
revealing  the  Fatherhood  of  God  ?  When  the  electric 
wire  linked  the  New  with  the  Old  World  the  distances 
were  annihilated,  the  thousand  leagues  of  sea  were  as 
if  they  were  not ;  and  when  Jesus  threw  across,  between 
earth  and  heaven,  that  word  "  Father,"  the  wide  dis- 
tances vanished,  and  even  the  silences  became  vocal. 
In  the  Psalms,  those  loftiest  utterances  of  devotion, 
Religion  only  once  ventured  to  call  God  "Father;" 
and  then,  as  if  frightened  at  her  own  temerity,  she 
lapses  into  silence,  and  never  speaks  the  familiar  word 
again.  But  how  different  the  language  of  the  Gospels  ! 
It  is  a  name  that  Jesus  is  never  weary  of  repeating, 
striking  its  music  upwards  of  seventy  times,  as  if  by 
the  frequent  iteration  He  would  lodge  the  heavenly 
word  deep  within  the  world's  heart.  This  is  His  first 
lesson  in  the  science  of  prayer :  He  drills  them  on  the 
Divine  Fatherhood,  setting  them  on  that  word,  as  it 
were,  to  practise  the  scales  ;  for  as  he  who  has  practised 
well  the  scales  has  acquired  the  key  to  all  harmonies, 
so  he  who  has  learned  well  the  "Father"  has  learned 
the  secret  of  heaven,  the  sesame  that  opens  all  its  doors 
and  unlocks  all  its  treasures. 


i8o  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

"When  ye  pray,"  said  Jesus,  replying  to  a  disciple 
who  sought  instruction  in  the  heavenly  language,  "  say, 
Father,"  thus  giving  us  what  was  His  own  pass-word 
to  the  courts  of  heaven.  It  is  as  if  He  said,  "  If  you 
would  pray  acceptably  put  yourself  in  the  right  position. 
Seek  to  realize,  and  then  to  claim,  your  true  relationship. 
Do  not  look  upon  God  as  a  distant  and  cold  abstraction, 
(or  as  some  blind  force ;  do  not  regard  Him  as  being 
hostile  to  you  or  as  careless  about  you.  Else  your 
prayer  will  be  some  wail  of  bitterness,  a  cry  coming  out 
of  the  dark,  and  losing  itself  in  the  dark  again.  But 
look  upon  God  as  your  Father,  your  living,  loving,  hea- 
venly Father;  and  then  step  up  with  a  holy  boldness  into 
the  child-place,  and  all  heaven  opens  before  you  there." 
And  not  only  does  Jesus  thus  u  show  us  the  Father," 
,  but  He  takes  pains  to  show  us  that  it  is  a  real,  and  not 
/  some  fictitious  Fatherhood.  He  tells  us  that  the  word 
1  means  far  more  in  its  heavenly  than  in  its  earthly  use ; 
that  the  earthly  meaning,  in  fact,  is  but  a  shadow  of  the 
heavenly.  For  "if  ye  then,"  He  says,  "  being  evil, 
know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your  children :  how 
much  more  shall  your  heavenly  Father  give  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  them  that  ask  Him?"  He  thus  sets  us  a 
problem  in  Divine  proportion.  He  gives  us  the  human 
fatherhood,  with  all  it  implies,  as  our  known  quantities, 
and  from  these  He  leaves  us  to  work  out  the  unknown 
quantity,  which  is  the  Divine  ability  and  willingness 
to  give  good  gifts  to  men ;  for  the  Holy  Spirit  includes 
in  Himself  all  spiritual  gifts.  It  is  a  problem,  however, 
which  our  earthly  figures  cannot  solve.  The  nearest 
that  we  can  approach  to  the  answer  is  that  the  Divine 
Fatherhood  is  the  human  fatherhood  multiplied  by  that 
"  how  much  more  " — a  factor  which  gives  us  an  infinite 
series. 


CONCERNING  PRAYER.  181 

Again,  Jesus  teaches  that  character  is  an  important 
condition  of  prayer,   and   that  in   this  realm  heart  is 
more  than  any  art.     Words  alone  do  not  constitute 
prayer,  for  they  may  be  only  like  the  bubbles  of  the 
children's  play,  iridescent  but  hollow,  never  climbing 
the  sky,  but  returning  to  the  earth  whence  they  came. 
And  so  when  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  make  "long 
prayers,"  striking  devotional  attitudes,  and  putting  on 
airs  of  sanctity,  Jesus  could  not  endure  them.     They 
were  a  weariness  and   abomination  to  Him ;    for  He 
read  their  secret  heart,  and  found  it  vain  and  proud. 
In  His  parable  (xviii.  n)  He  puts  the  genuine  and  the 
counterfeit   prayer   side   by   side,   drawing   the   sharp 
contrast  between  them.     He  gives  us  that  of  the  Pha- 
risee, wordy,  inflated,  full  of  the  self-eulogizing  "  I." 
It   is   the  prayerless  prayer,   that   had   no  need,  and 
which  was  simply  an  incense  burned  before  the  clayey 
image  of  himself.     Then  He  gives  us  the  few   brief 
words  of  the  publican,  the  cry  of  a  broken  heart,  "  God 
be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner,"  a  prayer  which  reached 
directly   the   highest   heaven,   and   which    came   back 
freighted  with  the  peace  of  God.     "  If  I  regard  iniquity 
in  my  heart,"  the  Psalmist  said,   "the  Lord  will  not 
hear  me."     And  it  is  true.     If  there  be  the  least  un- 
forgiven  sin  within  the  soul  we  spread  forth  our  hands, 
we  make  many  prayers,  in  vain ;  we  do  but  utter  u  wild, 
delirious  cries  "  that  Heaven  will  not  hear,  or  at  any 
rate  regard.     The  first  cry  of  true  prayer  is  the  cry  for 
mercy,  pardon ;  and  until  this  is  spoken,  until  we  step 
up  by  faith  into  the  child-position,  we  do  but  offer  vain 
oblations.     Nay,  even  in  the  regenerate  heart,  if  there 
be  a  temporary  lapse,  and  unholy  tempers  brood  within, 
the  lips  of  prayer  become  paralyzed  at  once,  or  they 
only   stammer  in  incoherent  speech.     We   may   with 


182  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

filled  hands  compass  the  altar  of  God,  but  neither  gifts 
nor  prayers  can  be  accepted  if  there  be  bitterness  and 
jealousy  within,  or  if  our  "brother  has  aught  against" 
us.  The  wrong  must  be  righted  with  our  brother,  or 
we  cannot  be  right  with  God.  How  can  we  ask  for 
forgiveness  if  we  ourselves  cannot  forgive  ?  How  can 
we  ask  for  mercy  if  we  are  hard  and  merciless,  grip- 
ping the  throat  of  each  offender,  as  we  demand  the 
uttermost  farthing  ?  He  who  can  pray  for  them  who 
despitefully  use  him  is  in  the  way  of  the  Divine  com- 
mandment ;  he  has  climbed  to  the  dome  of  the  temple, 
where  the  whispers  of  prayer,  and  even  its  inarticulate 
aspirations,  are  heard  in  heaven.  And  so  the  connec- 
tion is  most  close  and  constant  between  praying  and 
living,  and  they  pray  most  and  best  who  at  the  same 
time  "  make  their  life  a  prayer." 

Again,  Jesus  maps  out  for  us  the  realm  of  prayer, 
showing  the  wide  areas  it  should  cover.  St.  Luke 
gives  us  an  abbreviated  form  of  the  prayer  recorded 
by  St.  Matthew,  and  which  we  call  the  "  Lord's  Prayer." 
It  is  a  disputed  point,  though  not  a  material  one, 
whether  the  two  prayers  are  but  varied  renderings  of 
one  and  the  same  utterance,  or  whether  Jesus  gave, 
on  a  later  occasion,  an  epitomized  form  of  the  prayer 
He  had  prescribed  before,  though  from  the  circum- 
stantial evidence  of  St.  Luke  we  incline  to  the  latter 
view.  The  two  forms,  however,  are  identical  in  sub- 
stance. It  is  scarcely  likely  that  Jesus  intended  it  to 
be  a  rigid  formula,  to  which  we  should  be  slavishly 
bound  ;  for  the  varied  renderings  of  the  two  Evangelists 
show  plainly  that  Heaven  does  not  lay  stress  upon 
the  ipsissima  verba.  We  must  take  it  rather  as  a 
Divine  model,  laying  down  the  lines  on  which  our 
prayers  should  move.     It  is,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  prayer- 


CONCERNING  PRAYER.  183 

microcosm,  giving  a  miniature  reflection  of  the  whole 
world  of  prayer,  as  a  drop  of  dew  will  give  a  reflection 
of  the  encircling  sky.  It  gives  us  what  we  may  call 
the  species  of  prayer,  whose  genera  branch  off  into 
infinite  varieties ;  nor  can  we  readily  conceive  of  any 
petition,  however  particular  or  private,  whose  root-stem 
is  not  found  in  the  few  but  comprehensive  words  of 
the  Lord's  Prayer.  It  covers  every  want  of  man,  just 
as  it  befits  every  place  and  time. 

Running  through  the  prayer  are  two  marked  divi- 
sions, the  one  general,  the  other  particular  and 
personal;  and  in  the  Divine  order,  contrary  to  our 
Viman  wont,  the  general  stands  first,  and  the  personal 
second.  Our  prayers  often  move  in  narrow  circles, 
like  the  homing  birds  coming  back  to  this  "  centred 
self"  of  ours,  and  sometimes  we  forget  to  give  them 
the  wider  sweeps  over  a  redeemed  humanity.  But 
Jesus  says,  "When  ye  pray,  say,  Father,  hallowed  be 
Thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come."  It  is  a  temporary 
erasure  of  self,  as  the  soul  of  the  worshipper  is  absorbed 
in  God.  In  its  nearness  to  the  throne  it  forgets  for 
awhile  its  own  little  needs;  its  low-flying  thoughts 
are  caught  up  into  the  higher  currents  of  the  Divine 
thought  and  purpose,  moving  outwards  with  them. 
And  this  is  the  first  petition,  that  the  name  of  God- 
may  be  hallowed  throughout  the  world;  that  is,  that 
men's  conceptions  of  the  Deity  may  become  just  and 
holy,  until  earth  gives  back  in  echo  the  Trisagion  of  the 
seraphim.  The  second  petition  is  a  continuation  of 
the  first ;  for  just  in  proportion  as  men's  conceptions 
of  God  are  corrected  and  hallowed  will  the  kingdom 
of  God  be  set  up  on  earth.  The  first  petition,  like  th^fc 
of  the  Psalmist,  is  for  the  sending  out  of  "  Thy  light 
and  Thy  truth  ; "  the  second  is  that  humanity  may 


1 84  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

be  led  to  the  "  holy  hill,"  praising  God  upon  the  harp, 
and  finding  in  God  their  "  exceeding  joy."  To  find 
God  as  the  Father-King  is  to  step  up  within  the 
kingdom. 

The  prayer  now  descends  into  the  lower  plane  of 
personal  wants,  covering  (i)  our  physical,  and  (2)  our 
spiritual  needs.  The  former  are  met  with  one  petition, 
"  Give  us  day  by  day  our  daily  bread,"  a  sentence 
confessedly  obscure,  and  which  has  given  rise  to  much 
dispute.  Some  interpret  it  in  a  spiritual  sense  alone, 
since,  as  they  say,  any  other  interpretation  would 
break  in  upon  the  uniformity  of  the  prayer,  whose 
other  terms  are  all  spiritual.  But  if,  as  we  have  sug- 
gested, the  whole  prayer  must  be  regarded  as  an 
epitome  of  prayer  in  general,  then  it  must  include  some- 
where our  physical  needs,  or  a  large  and  important 
domain  of  our  life  is  left  uncovered.  As  to  the  meaning 
of  the  singular  adjective  liviovaiov  we  need  not  say 
much.  That  it  can  scarcely  mean  "  to-morrow's " 
bread  is  evident  from  the  warning  Jesus  gives  against 
"taking  thought"  for  the  morrow,  and  we  must  not 
allow  the  prayer  to  traverse  the  command.  The  most 
natural  and  likely  interpretation  is  that  which  the  heart 
of  mankind  has  always  given  it,  as  our  "  daily  "  bread, 
or  bread  sufficient  for  the  day.  Jesus  thus  selects 
what  is  the  most  common  of  our  physical  wants,  the 
bread  which  comes  to  us  in  such  purely  natural, 
matter-of-course  ways,  as  the  specimen  need  of  our 
physical  life.  But  when  He  thus  lifts  up  this  common, 
ever-recurring  mercy  into  the  region  of  prayer  He  puts 
a  halo  of  Divineness  about  it,  and  by  including  this 
He  teaches  us  that  there  is  no  want  of  even  our 
physical  life  which  is  excluded  from  the  realm  of  prayer. 
If  we  are  invited  to  speak  with  God  concerning  our 


CONCERNING  PRAYER.  185 

daily  bread,  then  certainly  we  need  not  be  silent  as  to 
aught  else. 

Our  spiritual  needs  are  included  in  the  two  petitions, 
u  And  forgive  us  our  sins  ;  for  we  ourselves  also  forgive 
every  one  that  is  indebted  to  us.  And  bring  us  not  into 
temptation."  The  parenthesis  does  not  imply  that  all 
debts  should  be  remitted,  for  payment  of  these  is  en- 
joined as  one  of  the  duties  of  life.  The  indebtedness 
spoken  of  is  rather  the  New  Testament  indebtedness, 
the  failure  of  duty  or  courtesy,  the  omission  of  some 
"ought"  of  life  or  some  injury  or  offence.  It  is  that 
human  forgiveness,  the  opposite  of  resentment,  which 
grows  up  under  the  shadow  of  the  Divine  forgiveness. 
The  former  of  these  petitions,  then,  is  for  the  forgive- 
ness of  all  past  sin,  while  the  latter  is  for  deliverance 
from  present  sinning ;  for  when  we  pray,  "  Bring  us 
not  into  temptation,"  it  is  a  prayer  that  we  may  not 
be  tempted  "  above  that  we  are  able,"  which,  amplified, 
means  that  in  all  our  temptations  we  may  be  victorious, 
"kept  by  the  power  of  God." 

Such,  then,  is  the  wide  realm  of  prayer,  as  indicated 
by  Jesus.  He  assures  us  that  there  is  no  department 
of  our  being,  no  circumstance  of  our  life,  which  does 
not  lie  within  its  range ;  that 

"  The  whole  round  world  is  every  way 
Bound  with  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God," 

and  that  on  these  golden  chains,  as  on  a  harp,  the 
touch  of  prayer  may  wake  sweet  music,  far-off  or  near 
alike.  And  how  much  we  miss  through  restraining 
prayer,  reserving  it  for  special  occasions,  or  for  the 
greater  crises  of  life  1  But  if  we  would  only  loop  up 
with  heaven  each  successive  hour,  if  we  would  only 
run  the  thread  of  prayer  through  the  common  events 


i86  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

and  the  common  tasks,  we  should  find  the  whole  day 
and  the  whole  life  swinging  on  a  higher,  calmer  level. 
The  common  task  would  cease  to  be  common,  and  the 
earthly  would  be  less  earthly,  if  we  only  threw  a  bit 
of  heaven  upon  it,  or  we  opened  it  out  to  heaven.  If 
in  everything  we  could  but  make  our  requests  known 
unto  God — that  is,  if  prayer  became  the  habitual  act 
of  life — we  should  find  that  heaven  was  no  longer  the 
land  "  afar  off/'  but  that  it  was  close  upon  us,  with  all 
its  proffered  ministries. 

Again,  Jesus  teaches  the  importance  of  earnestness 
and  importunity  in  prayer.  He  sketches  the  picture  — 
for  it  is  scarcely  a  parable — of  the  man  whose  hospitality 
is  claimed,  late  at  night,  by  a  passing  friend,  but  who 
has  no  provision  made  for  the  emergency.  He  goes 
over  to  another  friend,  and  rousing  him  up  at  midnight, 
he  asks  for  the  loan  of  three  loaves.  And  with  what 
result  ?  Does  the  man  answer  from  within,  u  Trouble 
me  not :  the  door  is  now  shut,  and  my  children  are 
with  me  in  bed ;  I  cannot  rise  and  give  thee  "  ?  No, 
that  v/ould  be  an  impossible  answer ;  for  "  though  he 
will  not  rise  and  give  him  because  he  is  his  friend, 
yet  because  of  his  importunity  he  will  rise  and  give 
him  as  many  as  he  needeth  "  (xi.  8).  It  is  the  un- 
reasonableness, or  at  any  rate  the  untimeliness  of  the 
request  Jesus  seems  to  emphasize.  The  man  himself 
is  thoughtless,  improvident  in  his  household  manage- 
ment. He  disturbs  his  neighbour,  waking  up  his 
whole  family  at  midnight  for  such  a  trivial  matter 
as  the  loan  of  three  loaves.  But  he  gains  his  request, 
not,  either,  on  the  ground  of  friendship,  but  through 
sheer  audacity,  impudence ;  for  such  is  the  meaning 
of  the  word,  rather  than  importunity.  The  lesson  is 
easily  learned,  for  the  suppressed  comparison  would 


CONCERNING  PRAYER.  187 

be,  "  If  man,  being  evil,  will  put  himself  out  of  the 
way  to  serve  a  friend,  even  at  this  untimely  hour, 
filling  up  by  his  thoughtfulness  his  friend's  lack  of 
thought,  how  much  more  will  the  heavenly  Father  give 
to  His  child  such  things  as  are  needful  ?  " 

We  have  the  same  lesson  taught  in  the  parable  of 
the  Unjust  Judge  (xviii.  i),  that  "  men  ought  always 
to  pray,  and  not  to  faint."  Here,  however,  the  charac- 
ters are  reversed.  The  suppliant  is  a  poor  and  a 
wronged  widow,  while  the  person  addressed  is  a  hard, 
selfish,  godless  man,  who  boasts  of  his  atheism.  She 
asks,  not  for  a  favour,  but  for  her  rights — that  she  may 
have  due  protection  from  some  extortionate  adversary, 
who  somehow  has  got  her  in  his  power ;  for  justice 
rather  than  vengeance  is  her  demand.  But  "  he  would 
not  for  awhile,"  and  all  her  cries  for  pity  and  for  help 
beat  upon  that  callous  heart  only  as  the  surf  upon  a 
rocky  shore,  to  be  thrown  back  upon  itself.  But  after- 
wards he  said  within  himself,  "Though  I  fear  not  God, 
nor  regard  man,  yet  because  this  widow  troubleth  me, 
I  will  avenge  her,  lest  she  wear  me  out  by  her  continual 
coming."  And  so  he  is  moved  to  take  her  part  against 
her  adversary,  not  for  any  motive  of  compassion  or 
sense  of  justice,  but  through  mere  selfishness,  that  he 
may  escape  the  annoyance  of  her  frequent  visits — lest 
her  continual  coming  "worry"  me,  as  the  colloquial 
expression  might  be  rendered.  Here  the  comparison,  or 
contrast  rather,  is  expressed,  at  any  rate  in  part.  Jt  is, 
"  If  an  unjust  and  abandoned  judge  grants  a  just  peti- 
tion at  last,  out  of  base  motives,  when  it  is  often  urged, 
to  a  defenceless  person  for  whom  he  cares  nothing,  how 
much  more  shall  a  just  and  merciful  God  hear  the  cry 
and  avenge  the  cause  of  those  whom  He  loves  ?  "  * 

•  Farrar. 


188  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

It  is  a  resolute  persistence  in  prayer  the  parable 
urges,  the  continued  asking,  and  seeking,  and  knocking 
that  Jesus  both  commended  and  commanded  (xi.  9), 
and  which  has  the  promise  of  such  certain  answers, 
and  not  the  tantalizing  mockeries  of  stones  for  bread, 
or  scorpions  for  fish.  Some  blessings  lie  near  at  hand  ; 
we  have  only  to  ask,  and  we  receive — receive  even  while 
we  ask.  But  other  blessings  lie  farther  off,  and  they 
can  only  be  ours  by  a  continuance  in  prayer,  by  a 
persistent  importunity.  Not  that  our  heavenly  Father 
needs  any  wearying  into  mercy  ;  but  the  blessing  may 
not  be  ripe,  or  we  ourselves  may  not  be  fully  prepared 
to  receive  it.  A  blessing  for  which  we  are  unprepared 
would  only  be  an  untimely  blessing,  and  like  a  December 
swallow,  it  would  soon  die,  without  nest  or  brood.  And 
sometimes  the  long  delay  is  but  a  test  of  faith,  whetting 
and  sharpening  the  desire,  until  our  very  life  seems  to 
depend  upon  the  granting  of  our  prayer.  So  long  as 
our  prayers  are  among  the  "may-be's"  and  "mights" 
there  are  fears  and  doubts  alternating  with  our  hope 
and  faith.  But  when  the  desires  are  intensified,  and 
our  prayers  rise  into  the  "  must-be's,"  then  the  answers 
are  near  at  hand ;  for  that  "  must  be "  is  the  soul's 
Mahanaim,  where  the  angels  meet  us,  and  God  Himself 
says  "  I  will."  Delays  in  our  prayers  are  by  no  means 
denials  ;  they  are  often  but  the  lengthened  summer 
for  the  ripening  of  our  blessings,  making  them  largei 
and  more  sweet. 

And  now  we  have  only  to  consider,  which  we  must 
do  briefly,  the  practice  of  Jesus,  the  place  of  prayer  in 
His  own  life  ;  and  we  shall  find  that  in  every  point  it 
coincides  exactly  with  His  teaching.  To  us  of  the 
clouded  vision  heaven  is  sometimes  a  hope  more  than 
a  reality.     It  is  an  unseen  goal,  luring  us  across  the 


CONCERNING  PRAYER.  189 

wilderness,  and  which  one  of  these  days  we  may  pos- 
sess ;  but  it  is  not  to  us  as  the  wide-reaching,  encircling 
sky,  throwing  its  sunshine  into  each  day,  and  lighting 
up  our  nights  with  its  thousand  lamps.  To  Jesus, 
heaven  was  more  and  nearer  than  it  is  to  us.  He  had 
left  it  behind  ;  and  yet  He  had  not  left  it,  for  He  speaks 
of  Himself,  the  Son  of  man,  as  being  now  in  heaven. 
And  so  He  was.  His  feet  were  upon  earth,  at  home 
amid  its  dust;  but  His  heart,  His  truer  life,  were  all 
above.  And  how  constant  His  correspondence,  or 
rather  communion,  with  heaven  I  At  first  sight  it 
appears  strange  to  us  that  Jesus  should  need  the 
sustenance  of  prayer,  or  that  He  could  even  adopt 
its  language.  But  when  He  became  the  Son  of  man 
He  voluntarily  assumed  the  needs  of  humanity;  He 
u  emptied  Himself,"  as  the  Apostle  expresses  a  great 
mystery,  as  if  for  the  time  divesting  Himself  of  all 
Divine  prerogatives,  choosing  to  live  as  man  amongst 
men.  And  so  Jesus  prayed.  He  was  wont,  even  as 
we  are,  to  refresh  a  wasted  strength  by  draughts  from 
the  celestial  springs  ;  and  as  Antseus,  in  his  wrestling, 
recovered  himself  as  he  touched  the  ground,  so  we  find 
Jesus,  in  the  great  crises  of  His  life,  falling  back  upon 
Heaven. 

St.  Luke,  in  his  narrative  of  the  Baptism,  inserts  one 
fact  the  other  Synoptists  omit — that  Jesus  was  in  the  act 
of  prayer  when  the  heavens  were  opened,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  descended,  in  the  semblance  of  a  dove,  upon  Him. 
It  is  as  if  the  opened  heavens,  the  descending  dove,  and 
the  audible  voice  were  but  the  answer  to  His  prayer. 
And  why  not?  Standing  on  the  threshold  of  His 
mission,  would  He  not  naturally  ask  that  a  double 
portion  of  the  Spirit  might  be  His— that  Heaven  might 
put  its  manifest  seal  upon  that  mission,  if  not  for  the 


190  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

confirmation  of  His  own  faith,  yet  for  that  of  His  fore- 
runner ?  At  any  rate,  the  fact  is  plain  that  it  was  while 
He  was  in  the  act  of  prayer  that  He  received  that 
second  and  higher  baptism,  even  the  baptism  of  the 
Spirit. 

A  second  epoch  in  that  Divine  life  was  when  Jesus 
formally  instituted  the  Apostleship,  calling  and  initiat- 
ing the  Twelve  into  the  closer  brotherhood.  It  was,  so 
to  speak,  the  appointment  of  a  regency,  who  should 
exercise  authority  and  rule  in  the  new  kingdom, 
sitting,as  Jesus  figuratively  expresses  it  (xxii.  30),  "on 
thrones,  judging  the  twelve  tiibes  of  Israel."  It  is  easy 
to  see  what  tremendous  issues  were  involved  in  this 
appointment ;  for  were  these  foundation-stones  untrue, 
warped  by  jealousies  and  vain  ambitions,  the  whole 
superstructure  would  have  been  weakened,  thrown  out 
of  the  square.  And  so  before  the  selection  is  made,  a 
selection  demanding  such  insight  and  foresight,  such 
a  balancing  of  complementary  gifts,  Jesus  devotes  the 
whole  night  to  prayer,  seeking  the  solitude  of  the 
mountain-height,  and  in  the  early  dawn  coming  down, 
w7ith  the  dews  of  night  upon  His  garment  and  with  the 
dews  of  heaven  upon  His  soul,  which,  like  crystals  01 
lenses  of  light,  made  the  invisible  visible  and  the  distant 
near. 

A  third  crisis  in  that  Divine  life  was  at  the  Trans- 
figuration, when  the  summit  was  reached,  the  border- 
line between  earth  and  heaven,  where,  amid  celestial 
greetings  and  overshadowing  clouds  of  glory,  that 
sinless  life  would  have  had  its  natural  transition  into 
heaven.  And  here  again  wTe  find  the  same  coincidence 
of  prayer.  Both  St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke  state  that  the 
u  high  mountain  "  was  climbed  for  the  express  purpose 
of  communion  with  Heaven ;  they  "  went  up  into  the 


CONCERNING  PRAYER.  191 

mountain  to  pray."  It  is  only  St.  Luke,  however,  who 
states  that  it  was  "as  He  was  praying"  the  fashion  of 
His  countenance  was  altered,  thus  making  the  vision 
an  answer,  or  at  least  a  corollary,  to  the  pra}'er.  He  is 
at  a  point  where  two  ways  meet :  the  one  passes  into 
heaven  at  once,  from  that  high  level  to  which  by  a 
sinless  life  He  has  attained ;  the  other  path  sweeps 
suddenly  downward  to  a  valley  of  agony,  a  cross  of 
shame,  a  tomb  of  death ;  and  after  this  wide  detour  the 
heavenly  heights  are  reached  again.  Which  path  will 
He  choose?  If  He  takes  the  one  He  passes  solitary 
into  heaven  ;  if  He  takes  the  other  He  brings  with  Him 
a  redeemed  humanity.  And  does  not  this  give  us,  in  a 
sort  of  echo,  the  burden  of  His  prayer?  He  finds  the 
shadow  of  the  cross  thrown  over  this  heaven-lighted 
summit — for  when  Moses  and  Elias  appear  they  would 
not  introduce  a  subject  altogether  new ;  they  would  in 
their  conversation  strike  in  with  the  theme  with  which 
His  mind  is  already  preoccupied,  that  is  the  decease  He 
should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem — and  as  thechiilof  that 
shadow  settles  upon  Him,  causing  the  flesh  to  shrink 
2nd  quiver  for  a  while,  would  He  not  seek  for  the 
strength  He  needs  ?  Would  He  not  ask,  as  later,  in 
the  garden,  that  the  cup  might  pass  from  Him ;  or  if 
that  should  not  be  possible,  that  His  will  might  not 
conflict  with  the  Father's  will,  even  for  a  passing 
moment  ?  At  any  rate  we  may  suppose  that  the  vision 
was,  in  some  way,  Heaven's  answer  to  His  prayer, 
giving  Him  the  solace  and  strengthening  that  He 
sought,  as  the  Father's  voice  attested  His  Sonship,  and 
celestials  came  forth  to  salute  the  Well-beloved,  and  to 
hearten  Him  on  towards  His  dark  goal. 

Just   so  was  it  when  Jesus  kept  His  fourth  watch 
in   Gethsemane.     What   Gethsemane   was,    and   what 


192  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

its  fearful  agony  meant,  we  shall  consider  in  a  later 
chapter.  It  is  enough  for  our  present  purpose  to  see 
how  Jesus  consecrated  that  deep  valley,  as  before  He 
had  consecrated  the  Transfiguration  height,  to  prayer. 
Leaving  the  three  outside  the  veil  of  the  darkness,  He 
passes  into  Gethsemane,  as  into  another  Holy  of  holies, 
there  to  offer  up  for  His  own  and  for  Himself  the 
sacrifice  of  prayer;  while  as  our  High  Priest  He 
sprinkles  with  His  own  blood,  that  blood  of  the  ever- 
lasting covenant,  the  sacred  ground.  And  what  prayer 
was  that !  how  intensely  fervent !  That  if  it  were 
possible  the  dread  cup  might  pass  from  Him,  but  that 
either  way  the  Father's  will  might  be  done  !  And  that 
prayer  was  the  prelude  to  victory;  for  as  the  first 
Adam  fell  by  the  assertion  of  self,  the  clashing  of  his 
will  with  God's,  the  second  Adam  conquers  by  the  total 
surrender  of  His  will  to  the  will  of  the  Father.  The 
agony  was  lost  in  the  acquiescence. 

But  it  was  not  alcne  in  the  great  crises  of  His  life 
that  Jesus  fell  back  upon  Heaven.  Prayer  with  Him 
was  habitual,  the  fragrant  atmosphere  in  which  He 
lived,  and  moved,  and  spoke.  His  words  glide  as  by 
a  natural  transition  into  its  language,  as  a  bird  whose 
feet  have  lightly  touched  the  ground  suddenly  takes  to 
its  wings ;  and  again  and  again  we  find  Him  pausing 
in  the  weaving  of  His  speech,  to  throw  across  the 
earthward  warp  the  heavenward  woof  of  prayer.  It 
was  a  necessity  of  His  life  ;  and  if  the  intrusive  crowds 
allowed  Him  no  time  for  its  exercise,  He  was  wont  to 
elude  them,  to  find  upon  the  mountain  or  in  the  desert 
His  prayer-chamber  beneath  the  stars.  And  how 
frequently  we  read  of  His  "  looking  up  to  heaven " 
amid  the  pauses  of  His  daily  task  !  stopping  before  He 
breaks  the  bread,  and  on  the  mirror  of  His  upturned 


CONCERNING  PRAYER.  193 

glance  leading  the  thoughts  and  thanks  of  the  multi- 
tude to  the  All-Father,  who  giveth  to  all  His  creatures 
their  meat  in  due  season ;  or  pausing  as  He  works 
some  impromptu  miracle,  before  speaking  the  omnipo- 
tent "  Ephphatha,"  that  on  His  upward  look  He  may 
signal  to  the  skies  !  And  what  a  light  is  turned  upon 
His  life  and  His  relation  to  His  disciples  by  a  simple 
incident  that  occurs  on  the  night  of  the  betrayal ! 
Reading  the  sign  of  the  times,  in  His  forecast  of  the 
dark  to-morrow,  He  sees  the  terrible  strain  that  will 
be  put  upon  Peter's  faith,  and  which  He  likens  to  a 
Satanic  sifting.  With  prescient  eye  He  sees  the 
temporary  collapse ;  how,  in  the  fierce  heat  of  the 
trial,  the  "  rock  "  will  be  thrown  into  a  state  of  flux ;  so 
weak  and  pliant,  it  will  be  all  rippled  by  agitation  and 
unrest,  or  driven  back  at  the  mere  breath  of  a  servant- 
girl.  He  says  mournfully,  "  Simon,  Simon,  behold, 
Satan  asked  to  have  you,  that  he  might  sift  you  as 
wheat :  but  I  made  supplication  for  thee,  that  thy  faith 
fail  not"  (xxii.  31).  So  completely  does  Jesus  identify 
Himself  with  His  own,  making  their  separate  needs 
His  care  (for  this  doubtless  was  no  solitary  case) ;  but 
just  as  the  High  Priest  carried  on  his  breastplate  the 
twelve  tribal  names,  thus  bringing  all  Israel  within  the 
light  of  Urim  and  Thummim,  so  Jesus  carries  within 
His  heart  both  the  name  and  the  need  of  each  separate 
disciple,  asking  for  them  in  prayer  what,  perhaps,  they 
have  failed  to  ask  for  themselves.  Nor  are  the  prayers 
of  Jesus  limited  by  any  such  narrow  circle ;  they  com- 
passed the  world,  lighting  up  all  horizons;  and  even 
upon  the  cross,  amid  the  jeers  and  laughter  of  the 
crowd,  He  forgets  His  own  agonies,  as  with  parched 
lips  He  prays  for  His  murderers,  "  Father,  forgive 
them  ;  for  they  know  not  what  they  do." 

13 


194  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

Thus,  more  than  any  son  of  man,  did  Jesus  "  pray 
without  ceasing,"  "in  everything  by  prayer  and  sup- 
plication with  thanksgiving  "  making  request  unto  God. 
Shall  we  not  copy  His  bright  example  ?  shall  we  not, 
too,  live,  labour,  and  endure,  as  "  seeing  Him  who  is 
invisible "  ?  He  who  lives  a  life  of  prayer  will  never 
question  its  reality.  He  who  sees  God  in  everything, 
and  everything  in  God,  will  turn  his  life  into  a  south 
land,  with  upper  and  nether  springs  of  blessing  in 
ceaseless  flow;  for  the  life  that  lies  full  heavenward 
lies  in  perpetual  summer,  in  the  eternal  noon. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  FAITH  OF  THE  CENTURION. 
Luke  vii.   i-io. 

OUR  Evangelist  prefaces  the  narrative  of  the  heal- 
ing of  the  centurion's  servant  with  one  of  his 
characteristic  time-marks,  the  shadow  upon  his  dial- 
plate  being  the  shadow  of  the  new  mount  of  God  : 
"After  He  had  ended  all  His  sayings  in  the  ears  of 
the  people,  He  entered  into  Capernaum."  The  language 
is  unusually  weighty,  almost  solemn,  as  if  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount  were  not  so  much  a  sermon  as  a  mani- 
festo, the  formal  proclamation  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
Our  word  "ended,"  too,  is  scarcely  an  equivalent  of 
the  original  word,  whose  underlying  idea  is  that  of 
fulness,  completion.  It  is  more  than  a  full-stop  to 
point  a  sentence;  it  is  a  word  that  characterizes  the 
sentence  itself,  suggesting,  if  not  implying,  that  these 
"sayings"  of  His  formed  a  complete  and  rounded 
whole,  a  body  of  moral  and  ethical  truth  which  was 
perfect  in  itself.  The  Mount  of  Beatitudes  thus  stands 
before  us  as  the  Sinai  of  the  New  Testament,  giving 
its  laws  to  all  peoples  and  to  all  times.  But  how 
different  the  aspect  of  the  two  mounts !  Then  the 
people  dare  not  touch  the  mountain ;  now  they  press 
close  up  to  the  "  Prophet  like  unto  Moses  "  to  hear  the 
word  of  God.  Then  the  Law  came  in  a  cluster  of 
restrictions  and  negations  ;  it  now  speaks  in  commands 


196  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

most  positive,  in  principles  permanent  as  time  itself; 
while  from  this  new  Sinai  the  clouds  have  disappeared, 
the  thunders  ceased,  leaving  a  sky  serene  and  bright, 
and  a  heaven  which  is  strangely  near. 

Returning  to  Capernaum — which  city,  after  the  ejec- 
tion from  Nazareth,  became  the  home  of  Jesus,  and 
the  centre  of  His  Galilean  ministry — He  was  met  by 
a  deputation  of  Jewish  elders,  who  came  to  intercede 
with  Him  on  behalf  of  a  centurion  whose  servant  was 
lying  dangerously  ill  and  apparently  at  the  point  of 
death.  The  narrative  thus  gives  us,  as  its  dramatis 
persona?,  the  Sufferer,  the  Intercessor,  and  the  Healer. 

As  we  read  the  story  our  thought  is  arrested,  and 
naturally  so,  by  the  central  figure.  The  imposing 
shadow  of  the  centurion  so  completely  fills  our  range 
of  vision  that  it  throws  into  the  background  the  name- 
less one  who  in  his  secret  chamber  is  struggling  vainly 
in  the  tightening  grip  of  death.  But  who  is  he  who 
can  command  such  a  service  ?  around  whose  couch  is 
such  a  multitude  of  ministering  feet  ?  who  is  he 
whose  panting  breath  can  throw  over  the  heart  of  his 
master,  and  over  his  face,  the  ripple-marks  of  a  great 
sorrow,  which  sends  hither  and  thither,  as  the  wind 
tosses  the  dry  leaves,  soldiers  of  the  army,  elders  of 
the  Jews,  friends  of  the  master,  and  which  makes 
even  the  feet  of  the  Lord  hasten  with  His  succour  ? 

"And  a  certain  centurion's  servant,  who  was  dear 
unto  him,  was  sick  and  at  the  point  of  death."  Such 
is  the  brief  sentence  which  describes  a  character,  and 
sums  up  the  whole  of  an  obscure  life.  We  are  not 
able  to  define  precisely  his  position,  for  the  word  leaves 
us  in  doubt  whether  he  were  a  slave  or  a  servant  of  the 
centurion.  Probably — if  we  may  throw  the  light  of 
the  whole  narrative  upon  the  word — he  was  a  confiden- 


vii.i-io.]       THE  FAITH  OF  THE  CENTURION  197 

tial  servant,  living  in  the  house  of  his  master,  on  terms 
of  more  than  usual  intimacy.  What  those  terms  were 
we  may  easily  discover  by  opening  out  the  word  a  dear/' 
reading  its  depths  as  well  as  its  surface-meaning.  In 
its  lower  sense  it  means  "  valuable,"  "  worth-y  "  (putting 
its  ancient  accent  upon  the  modern  word).  It  sets  the 
man,  not  over  against  the  tables  of  the  Law,  but  against 
the  law  of  the  tables,  weighing  him  in  the  balances  of 
trade,  and  estimating  him  by  the  scale  of  commercial 
values.  But  in  this  meaner,  worldly  mode  of  reckoning 
he  is  not  found  wanting.  He  is  a  servant  proved  and 
approved.  Like  Eliezer  of  old,  he  has  identified  himself 
with  his  master's  interests,  listening  for  his  voice,  and 
learning  to  read  even  the  wishes  which  were  unexpressed 
in  words.  Adjusting  his  will  to  the  higher  will,  like 
a  vane  answering  the  currents  of  the  wind,  his  hands, 
his  feet,  and  his  whole  self  have  swung  round  to  fall 
into  the  drift  of  his  master's  purpose.  Faithful  in  his 
service,  whether  that  service  were  under  the  master's 
eye  or  not,  and  faithful  alike  in  the  great  and  the  little 
things,  he  has  entered  into  his  master's  confidence,  and 
so  into  his  joy.  Losing  his  own  personality,  he  is  con- 
tent to  be  something  between  a  cipher  and  a  unit,  only 
a  "hand."  But  he  is  the  master's  right  hand,  strong 
and  ever  ready,  so  useful  as  to  be  almost  an  integral 
part  of  the  master's  self,  without  which  the  master's  life 
would  be  incomplete  and  strangely  bereaved.  All  this 
we  may  learn  from  the  lower  meaning  of  the  phrase 
11  was  dear  unto  him." 

But  the  word  has  a  higher  meaning,  one  that  is 
properly  rendered  by  our  "dear."  It  implies  esteem, 
affection,  transferring  our  thought  from  the  subject  to 
the  object,  from  the  character  of  the  servant  to  the 
influence  it  has  exerted  upon  the  master.     The  word  is 


198  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

thus  an  index,  a  barometrical  reading,  measuring  for  us 
the  pressure  of  that  influence,  and  recording  for  us  the 
high  sentiments  of  regard  and  affection  it  has  evoked. 
As  the  trees  around  the  pond  lean  towards  the  water 
which  laves  their  roots,  so  the  strong  soul  of  the  cen- 
turion, drawn  by  the  attractions  of  a  lowly  but  a  noble 
life,  leans  toward,  until  it  leans  upon,  his  servant,  giving 
him  its  confidence,  its  esteem  and  love,  that  golden 
fruitage  of  the  heart.  That  such  was  the  mutual 
relation  of  the  master  and  the  servant  is  evident,  for 
Jesus,  who  read  motives  and  heard  thoughts,  would  not 
so  freely  and  promptly  have  placed  His  miraculous 
power  at  the  disposal  of  the  centurion  had  his  sorrow 
been  only  the  seifish  sorrow  of  losing  what  was  com- 
mercially valuable.  To  an  appeal  of  selfishness,  though 
thrown  forward  and  magnified  by  the  sounding-boards 
of  all  the  synagogues,  the  ears  of  Jesus  would  have 
been  perfectly  deaf;  but  when  it  was  the  cry  of  a 
genuine  sorrow,  the  moan  of  a  vicarious  pain,  an 
unselfish,  disinterested  grief,  then  the  ears  of  Jesus 
were  quick  to  hear,  and  His  ket  swift  to  respond. 

It  is  impossible  for  us  to  define  exactly  what  the 
sickness  was,  though  the  statement  of  St.  Matthew 
that  it  was  a  palsy,"  and  that  he  was  "  grievously  tor- 
mented," would  suggest  that  it  might  be  an  acute  case 
of  inflammatory  rheumatism.  But  whatever  it  might 
be,  it  was  a  most  painful,  and  as  every  one  thought  a 
mortal  sickness,  one  that  left  no  room  for  hope,  save 
this  last  hope  in  the  Divine  mercy.  But  what  a  lesson 
is  here  for  our  times,  as  indeed  for  all  times,  the  lesson 
of  humanity !  How  little  does  Heaven  make  of  rank 
and  station !  Jesus  does  not  even  see  them ;  He 
ignores  them  utterly.  To  His  mind  Humanity  is  one, 
and    the   broad   lines   of   distinction,   the    impassable 


vii.  i-io.]       THE  FAITH  OF  THE  CENTURION.  199 

barriers  Society  is  fond  of  drawing  or  setting  up,  to 
Him  are  but  imaginary  meridians  of  the  sea,  a  name, 
but  nothing  more.  It  is  but  a  nameless  servant  of  a 
nameless  master,  one,  too,  of  many,  for  a  hundred 
others  are  ready,  with  military  precision,  to  do  that 
same  master's  will ;  but  Jesus  does  not  hesitate.  He 
who  voluntarily  took  upon  Himself  the  form  of  a  ser- 
vant, as  He  came  into  the  world  "  not  to  be  ministered 
unto,  but  to  minister,"  now  becomes  the  Servant  of  a 
servant,  saying  to  him  who  knew  only  how  to  obey, 
how  to  serve,  "  Here  am  I ;  command  Me ;  use  Me 
as  thou  wilt."  All  service  is  honourable,  if  we  serve 
not  ourselves,  but  our  fellows,  and  it  is  doubly  so  if, 
serving  man,  we  serve  God  too.  As  the  sunshine  looks 
down  into,  and  strews  with  flowers,  the  lowest  vales, 
so  the  Divine  compassion  falls  on  the  lowliest  lives,  and 
the  Divine  grace  makes  them  sweet  and  beautiful. 
Christianity  is  the  great  leveller,  but  it  levels  upwards, 
and  if  we  possess  the  mind  of  Christ,  His  Spirit  dwell- 
ing and  ruling  within,  we  too,  like  the  great  Apostle, 
shall  know  no  man  after  the  flesh ;  the  accidents  of 
birth,  and  rank,  and  fortune  will  sink  back  into  the 
trifles  that  they  are ;  for  however  these  may  vary,  it  is 
an  eternal  truth,  though  spoken  by  a  son  of  the  soil 
and  the  heather — 

"  A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that" 

It  is  not  easy  to  tell  how  the  seed-thought  is  borne 
into  a  heart,  there  to  germinate  and  ripen  ;  for  influences 
are  subtle,  invisible  things.  Like  the  pollen  of  a 
flower,  which  may  be  carried  on  the  antennae  of  some 
unconscious  insect,  or  borne  into  the  future  by  the 
passing  breeze,  so  influences  which  will  yet  ripen  into 
character  and  make  destinies  are  thrown  oil  uncon- 


200  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

sciously  from  our  common  deeds,  or  they  are  borne  on 
the  wings  of  the  chance,  casual  word.  The  case  of 
the  centurion  is  no  exception.  By  what  steps  he  has 
been  brought  into  the  clearer  light  we  cannot  tell,  but 
evidently  this  Pagan  officer  is  now  a  proselyte  to  the 
Hebrew  faith  and  worship,  the  window  of  his  soul 
open  towards  Jerusalem,  while  his  professional  life 
still  looks  towards  Rome,  as  he  renders  to  Caesar  the 
allegiance  and  service  which  are  Caesar's  due.  And 
what  a  testimony  it  is  to  the  vitality  and  reproductive 
power  of  the  Hebrew  faith,  that  it  should  boast  of  at 
least  three  centurions,  in  the  imperial  ranks,  of  whom 
Scripture  makes  honourable  mention — one  at  Caper- 
naum ;  another,  Cornelius,  at  Caesarea,  whose  prayers 
and  alms  wrere  had  in  remembrance  of  Heaven ;  and  the 
third  in  Jerusalem,  witnessing  a  good  confession  upon 
Calvary,  and  proclaiming  within  the  shadow  of  the 
cross  the  Divinity  of  the  Crucified.  It  shows  how  the 
Paganism  of  Rome  failed  to  satisfy  the  aspirations  of 
the  soul,  and  how  Mars,  red  and  lurid  through  the 
night,  paled  and  disappeared  at  the  rising  of  the  Sun. 

Although  identifying  himself  with  the  religious  life 
of  the  city,  the  centurion  had  not  yet  had  any  personal 
interview  with  Jesus.  Possibly  his  military  duties 
prevented  his  attendance  at  the  synagogue,  so  that  he 
had  not  seen  the  cures  Jesus  there  wrought  upon  the 
demoniac  and  the  man  with  the  withered  hand.  The 
report  of  them,  however,  must  soon  have  reached  him, 
intimate  as  he  was  with  the  officials  of  the  synagogue ; 
while  the  nobleman,  the  cure  of  whose  sick  son  is 
narrated  by  St.  John  (iv.  46),  would  probably  be 
amongst  his  personal  friends,  an  acquaintance  at  any 
rate.  The  centurion  "  heard "  of  Jesus,  but  he  could 
not  have  heard  had  not  some  one  spoken  of  Him.     The 


vii.  i -io.]       THE  FAITH  OF  THE  CENTURION.  201 


Christ  was  borne  into  his  mind  and  heart  on  the  breath 
of  common  speech;  that  is,  the  little  human  word  grew 
into  the  Divine  Word.  It  was  the  verbal  testimony 
as  to  what  Jesus  had  done  that  now  led  to  the  still 
greater  things  He  was  prepared  to  do.  And  such  is 
the  place  and  power  of  testimony  to-day.  It  is  the 
most  persuasive,  the  most  effective  form  of  speech. 
Testimony  will  often  win  where  argument  has  failed, 
and  gold  itself  is  all-powerless  to  extend  the  frontiers 
of  the  heavenly  kingdom  until  it  is  melted  down  and 
exchanged  for  the  higher  currency  of  speech.  It  is 
first  the  human  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness,  and 
then  the  incarnate  Word,  whose  coming  makes  the 
wilderness  to  be  glad,  and  the  desert  places  of  life  to 
sing.  And  so,  while  a  sword  of  flame  guards  the 
Paradise  Lost,  it  is  a  "tongue"  of  flame,  that  symbol 
of  a  perpetual  Pentecost,  which  calls  man  back,  re- 
deemed now,  to  the  Paradise  Restored.  If  Christians 
would  only  speak  more  for  Christ ;  if,  shaking  off  that 
foolish  reserve,  they  would  in  simple  language  testify 
to  what  they  themselves  have  seen,  and  known,  and 
experienced,  how  rapidly  would  the  kingdom  come, 
the  kingdom  for  which  we  pray,  indeed,  but  for  which, 
alas,  we  are  afraid  to  speak  !  Nations  then  would  be 
born  in  a  day,  and  the  millennium,  instead  of  being  the 
distant  or  the  forlorn  hope  it  is,  would  be  a  speedy 
realization.  We  should  be  in  the  fringe  of  it  directly. 
It  is  said  that  on  one  of  the  Alpine  glaciers  the  guides 
forbid  travellers  to  speak,  lest  the  mere  tremor  of  the 
human  voice  should  loosen  and  bring  down  the  deadly 
avalanche.  Whether  this  be  so  or  not,  it  was  some 
unnamed  voice  that  now  sent  the  centurion  to  Christ, 
and  brought  the  Christ  to  him. 

It  was  probably  a  sudden   relapse,   with   increased 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 


paroxysms  of  pain,  on  the  part  of  the  sufferer,  which 
now  decided  the  centurion  to  make  his  appeal  to 
Jesus,  sending  a  deputation  of  Jewish  elders,  as  the 
day  was  on  the  wane,  to  the  house  to  which  Jesus  had 
now  returned.  They  make  their  request  that  "  He 
would  come  and  save  the  servant  of  the  centurion, 
who  was  now  lying  at  the  point  of  death."  True 
advocates,  and  skilful,  were  these  elders.  They  made 
the  centurion's  cause  their  own,  as  if  their  hearts  had 
caught  the  rhythmic  beat  of  his  great  sorrow,  and 
when  Jesus  held  back  a  little — as  Ke  often  did,  to  test 
the  intensity  of  the  desire  and  the  sincerity  of  the 
suppliant — "they  besought  Him  earnestly,"  or  "kept 
on  beseeching,"  as  the  tense  of  the  verb  would  imply, 
crowning  their  entreaty  with  the  plea,  "  He  is  worthy 
that  Thou  shouldest  do  this,  for  he  loveth  our  nation, 
and  himself  built  us  our  synagogue."  Possibly  they 
feared — putting  a  Hebrew  construction  upon  His  sym- 
pathies—that Jesus  would  demur,  and  perhaps  refuse, 
because  their  client  was  a  foreigner.  They  did  not 
know,  what  we  know  so  well,  that  the  mercy  of  Jesus 
was  as  broad  as  it  was  deep,  knowing  no  bounds 
where  its  waves  of  blessing  are  stayed.  But  how 
forceful  and  prevalent  was  their  plea  !  Though  they 
knew  it  not,  these  elders  do  but  ask  Jesus  to  illustrate 
the  words  He  has  just  spoken,  "  Give,  and  it  shall  be 
given  unto  you."  And  had  not  Jesus  laid  this  down  as 
one  of  the  laws  of  mercy,  that  action  and  reaction  are 
equal  ?  Had  He  not  been  describing  the  orbit  in 
which  blessings  travel,  showing  that  though  its  orbit 
be  apparently  eccentric  at  times,  like  the  boomerang, 
that  wheels  round  and  comes  back  to  the  hand  that 
threw  it  forward,  the  mercy  shown  will  eventually 
come  back  to   him  who  showed  it,  with  a  wealth  of 


vii.  i-io.]       THE  FAITH  OF  THE   CENTURION.  203 

heavenly  usury  ?  And  so  their  plea  was  the  one  of  all 
others  to  be  availing.  It  was  the  precept  of  the  mount 
evolved  into  practice.  It  was,  "  Bless  him,  for  he  has 
richly  blessed  us.  He  has  opened  his  hand,  showering 
his  favours  upon  us,;  do  Thou  open  Thine  hand  now, 
and  show  him  that  the  God  of  the  Hebrews  is  a  God 
who  hears,  and  heeds,  and  helps." 

It  has  been  thought,  from  the  language  of  the  elders, 
that  the  synagogue  built  by  the  centurion  was  the 
only  one  that  Capernaum  possessed;  for  they  speak 
of  it  as  "  the "  synagogue.  But  this  does  not  follow, 
and  indeed  it  is  most  improbable.  They  might  still 
call  it  "  the "  synagogue,  not  because  it  was  the  only 
one,  but  because  it  was  the  one  foremost  and  upper- 
most in  their  thought,  the  one  in  which  they  were 
particularly  interested.  The  definite  article  no  more 
proves  this  to  be  the  only  synagogue  in  Capernaum 
than  the  phrase  "  the  house  "  (ver.  10)  proves  the  house 
of  the  centurion  to  be  the  only  house  of  the  city.  The 
fact  is  that  in  the  Gospel  age  Capernaum  was  a  busy 
and  important  place,  as  shown  by  its  possessing  a 
garrison  of  soldiers,  and  by  its  being  the  place  of 
custom,  situated  as  it  was  on  the  great  highway  of 
trade.  And  if  Jerusalem  could  boast  of  four  hundred 
synagogues,  and  Tiberias — a  city  not  even  named  by 
the  Synoptists — fourteen,  Capernaum  certainly  would 
possess  more  than  one.  Indeed,  had  Capernaum  been 
the  insignificant  village  that  one  synagogue  would 
imply,  then,  instead  of  deserving  the  bitter  woes  Jesus 
pronounced  upon  it,  it  would  have  deserved  the  highest 
commendation,  as  the  most  fruitful  field  in  all  His 
ministry,  giving  Him,  besides  other  disciples,  a  ruler 
of  the  Jews  and  the  commandant  of  the  garrison.  That 
it  deserved  such  bitter  "  woes  "  proves  that  Capernaum 


204  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

had  a  population  both  dense  and,  in  the  general,  hostile 
to  Jesus,  compared  with  which  His  friends  and 
adherents  were  a  feeble  few. 

In  spite  of  the  negative  manner  Jesus  purposely 
showed  at  the  first,  He  fully  intended  to  grant  all  the 
elders  had  asked,  and  allowing  them  now  to  guide 
Him,  He  "went  with  them."  When,  however,  they 
were  come  near  the  house,  the  centurion  sent  other 
"friends"  to  intercept  Jesus,  and  to  urge  Him  not  to 
take  any  further  trouble.  The  message,  which  they 
deliver  in  the  exact  form  in  which  it  was  given  to  them, 
is  so  characteristic  and  exquisitely  beautiful  that  it  is 
best  to  give  it  entire  :  "  Lord,  trouble  not  Thyself:  for 
I  am  not  worthy  that  Thou  shouldest  come  under  my 
roof:  wherefore  neither  thought  I  myself  worthy  to 
come  unto  Thee  :  but  say  the  word,  and  my  servant  shall 
be  healed.  For  I  also  am  a  man  set  under  authority, 
having  under  myself  soldiers  :  and  I  say  to  this  one,  Go, 
and  he  goeth ;  and  to  another,  Come,  and  he  cometh ; 
and  to  my  servant,  Do  this,  and  he  doeth  it." 

The  narrative  of  St.  Matthew  differs  slightly  from 
that  of  St.  Luke,  in  that  he  omits  all  reference  to  the 
two  deputations,  speaking  of  the  interview  as  being 
personal  with  the  centurion.  But  St.  Matthew's  is 
evidently  an  abbreviated  narrative,  and  he  passes  over 
the  intermediaries,  in  accordance  with  the  maxim  that 
he  who  acts  through  another  does  it  per  se.  But  both 
agree  as  to  the  terms  of  the  message,  a  message  which 
is  at  once  a  marvel  and  a  rebuke  to  us,  and  one  which 
was  indeed  deserving  of  being  twice  recorded  and 
eulogized  in  the  pages  of  the  Gospels. 

And  how  the  message  reveals  the  man,  disclosing 
as  in  a  transparency  the  character  of  this  nameless 
foreigner  !     We  have  already  seen  how  broad  were  his 


vii.  i-io.]       THE  FAITH  OF   THE  CENTURION.  205 

sympathies,  and  how  generous  his  deeds,  as  he  makes 
room  in  his  large  heart  for  a  conquered  and  despised 
people,  at  his  own  cost  building  a  temple  for  the 
exercises  of  their  faith.  We  have  seen,  too,  what  a 
wealth  of  tenderness  and  benevolence  was  hiding  be- 
neath a  somewhat  stern  exterior,  in  his  affection  for  a 
servant,  and  his  anxious  solicitude  for  that  servant's 
health.  But  now  we  see  in  the  centurion  other  graces 
of  character,  that  set  him  high  amongst  those  "  outside 
saints  "  who  worshipped  in  the  outer  courts,  until  such 
time  as  the  veil  of  the  Temple  was  rent  in  twain,  and 
the  way  into  the  Holiest  was  opened  for  all.  And  what 
a  beautiful  humility  is  here !  what  an  absence  of  as- 
sumption or  of  pride !  Occupying  an  honoured  posi- 
tion, representing  in  his  own  person  an  empire  which 
was  world-wide,  surrounded  by  troops  of  friends,  and 
by  all  the  comforts  wealth  could  buy,  accustomed  to 
speak  in  imperative,  if  not  in  imperious  ways,  yet  as 
he  turns  towards  Jesus  it  is  with  a  respectful,  yea,  a 
reverential  demeanour.  He  feels  himself  in  the  presence 
of  some  Higher  Being,  an  unseen  but  august  Caesar. 
Nay,  not  in  His  presence  either,  for  into  that  audience- 
chamber  he  feels  that  he  has  neither  the  fitness  nor  the 
right  to  intrude.  All  that  he  can  do  is  to  send  forward 
his  petition  by  the  hands  of  worthier  advocates,  who 
have  access  to  Him,  while  he  himself  keeps  back  out 
of  sight,  with  bared  feet  standing  by  the  outer  gate. 
Others  can  speak  well  and  highly  of  him,  recounting 
his  noble  deeds,  but  of  himself  he  has  nothing  good  to 
say ;  he  can  only  speak  of  self  in  terms  of  disparage- 
ment, as  he  emphasizes  his  littleness,  his  unworthiness. 
Nor  was  it  with  him  the  conventional  hyperbole  of 
Eastern  manners ;  it  was  the  language  of  deepest, 
sincerest  truth,  when  he  said  that  he  was  not  worthy 


206  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

even  to  speak  with  Christ,  or  to  receive  such  a  Guest 
beneath  his  roof.  Between  himself  and  the  One  he  reve- 
rently addressed  as  "  Lord "  there  was  an  infinite  dis 
tance ;  for  one  was  human,  while  the  Other  was  Divine. 

And  what  a  rare  and  remarkable  faith !  In  his 
thought  Jesus  is  an  Imperator,  commanding  all  forces, 
as  He  rules  the  invisible  realms.  His  will  is  supreme 
over  all  substances,  across  all  distances.  M  Thou  has! 
no  need,  Lord,  to  take  any  trouble  about  my  poor 
request.  There  is  no  necessity  that  Thou  shouldest 
take  one  step,  or  even  lift  up  a  finger ;  Thou  hast  only 
to  speak  the  word,  and  it  is  done  ; "  and  then  he  gives 
that  wonderfully  graphic  illustration  borrowed  from  his 
own  military  life. 

The  passage  "  For  I  also  am  a  man  set  undei 
authority "  is  generally  rendered  as  referring  to  his 
own  subordinate  position  under  the  Chiliarch.  But 
such  a  rendering,  as  it  seems  to  us,  breaks  the  con- 
tinuity of  thought,  and  grammatically  is  scarcely 
accurate.  The  whole  passage  is  an  amplification  and 
description  of  the  "  word  "  of  ver.  7,  and  the  "  also " 
introduces  something  the  centurion  and  Jesus  possess 
in  common,  i.e.,  the  power  to  command ;  for  the  "  I 
also  "  certainly  corresponds  with  the  "  Thou  "  which  is 
implied,  but  not  expressed.  But  the  centurion  did  not 
mean  to  imply  that  Jesus  possessed  only  limited,  dele- 
gated powers  ;  this  was  farthest  from  his  thought,  and 
formed  no  part  of  the  comparison.  But  let  the  clause 
"I  also  am  a  man  set  under  authority"  be  rendered, 
not  as  referring  to  the  authority  which  is  above  him, 
but  to  that  which  is  upon  him — "  I  also  am  vested  with 
authority,"  or  "  Authority  is  put  upon  me  * — and  the 
meaning  becomes  clear.  The  "  also "  is  no  longer 
warped  into  an  ungrammatical  meaning,  introducing  a 


vii.  i-io.]       THE  FAITH  OF  THE  CENTURION.  207 

contrast  rather  than  a  likeness  ;  while  the  clause  which 
follows,  "having  under  myself  soldiers,"  takes  its  proper 
place  as  an  enlargement  and  explanation  of  the  "autho- 
rity" with  which  the  centurion  is  invested. 

The  centurion  speaks  in  a  soldierly  way.  There  is 
a  crispness  and  sharpness  about  his  tones — that  Shib- 
boleth of  militaryism.  He  says,  u  My  word  is  all- 
powerful  in  the  ranks  which  I  command.  I  have  but 
to  say  'Come/  or  'Go/  and  my  word  is  instantly 
obeyed.  The  soldier  upon  whose  ear  it  falls  dare  not 
hesitate,  any  more  than  he  dare  refuse.  He  'goes'  at 
my  word,  any  whither,  on  some  forlorn  hope  it  may  be, 
or  to  his  grave."  And  such  is  the  obedience,  instant 
and  absolute,  that  military  service  demands.  The 
soldier  must  not  question,  he  must  obey ;  he  must  not 
reason,  he  must  act ;  for  when  the  word  of  command — 
that  leaded  word  of  authority — falls  upon  his  ear,  it 
completely  fills  his  soul,  and  makes  him  deaf  to  all 
other,  meaner  voices. 

Such  was  the  thought  in  the  centurion's  mind,  and 
from  the  "go"  and  "come"  of  military  authority  to 
the  higher  "word"  of  Jesus  the  transition  is  easy. 
But  how  strong  the  faith  that  could  give  to  Jesus  such 
an  enthronement,  that  could  clothe  His  word  with  such 
superhuman  power  !  Yonder,  in  his  secluded  chamber, 
lies  the  sufferer,  his  nerves  quivering  in  their  pain, 
while  the  mortal  sickness  physicians  and  remedies 
have  all  failed  to  touch,  much  less  to  remove,  has 
dragged  him  close  up  to  the  gate  of  death.  But  this 
"  word  "  of  Jesus  shall  be  all-sufficient.  Spoken  here 
and  now,  it  shall  pass  over  the  intervening  streets  and 
through  the  interposing  walls  and  doors  ;  it  shall  say 
to  these  demons  of  evil,  "  Loose  hirn,  and  let  him  go," 
and  in  a  moment  the  torturing  pain  shall  cease,  the 


208  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

fluttering  heart  shall  resume  its  healthy,  steady  beat, 
the  rigid  muscles  shall  become  pliant  as  before,  while 
through  arteries  and  veins  the  life-blood — its  poison 
all  extracted  now — shall  regain  its  healthful,  quiet  flow. 
The  centurion  believed  all  this  of  the  "  word  "  of  Jesus, 
and  even  more.  In  his  heart  it  was  a  word  all-potent, 
if  not  omnipotent,  like  to  the  word  of  Him  who  "  spake, 
and  it  was  done,"  who  "  commanded,  and  it  stood  fast." 
And  if  the  word  of  Jesus  in  these  realms  of  life  and 
death  was  so  imperative  and  all-commanding,  could 
the  Christ  Himself  be  less  than  Divine? 

To  find  such  confidence  reposed  in  Himself  was  to 
Jesus  something  new  and  to  find  this  rarest  plant  of 
faith  growing  up  on  Gentile  soil  was  a  still  greater 
marvel  and  turning  to  the  multitude  which  clustered 
thick  and  eager  around,  He  said  to  them,  "  I  have 
not  found  so  great  faith,  no,  not  in  Israel."  And 
commending  the  centurion's  faith,  He  honours  it  too, 
doing  all  he  requested,  and  even  more,  though  without 
the  "  word."  Jesus  does  not  even  say  "  I  will,"  or 
"  Be  it  so,"  but  He  works  the  instant  and  perfect 
cure  by  a  mere  volition.  He  wills  it,  and  it  is  done, 
so  that  when  the  friends  returned  to  the  house  they 
found  the  servant  u  whole." 

Of  the  sequel  we  know  nothing.  We  do  not  even 
read  that  Jesus  saw  the  man  at  whose  faith  He  had  so 
marvelled.  But  doubtless  He  did,  for  His  heart  was 
drawn  strangely  to  him,  and  doubtless  He  gave  to 
him  many  of  those  "  words "  for  which  his  soul  had 
longed  and  listened,  words  in  which  were  held,  as  in 
solution,  all  authority  and  all  truth.  And  doubtless, 
too,  in  the  after-years,  Jesus  crowned  that  life  of 
faithful  but  unnoted  service  with  the  higher  "word," 
the  heavenly  "  Well  done." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  ANOINTING  OF  THE  FEET. 
Luke  vii.  36-50. 

WHETHER  the  narrative  of  the  Anointing  is 
inserted  in  its  chronological  order  we  cannot 
say,  for  the  Evangelist  gives  us  no  word  by  which  we 
may  recognize  either  its  time  or  its  place-relation ;  but 
we  can  easily  see  that  it  falls  into  the  story  artistically, 
with  a  singular  fitness.  Going  back  to  the  context,  we 
find  Jesus  pronouncing  a  high  eulogium  upon  John 
the  Baptist  Hereupon  the  Evangelist  adds  a  statement 
of  his  own,  calling  attention  to  the  fact  that  even 
John's  ministry  failed  to  reach  and  influence  the 
Pharisees  and  lawyers,  who  rejected  the  counsel  of 
God,  and  declined  the  baptism  of  His  messenger. 
Then  Jesus,  in  one  of  His  brief  but  exquisite  parables, 
sketches  the  character  of  the  Pharisees.  Recalling  a 
scene  of  the  market-place,  where  the  children  were 
accustomed  to  play  at  "  weddings  "  and  "  funerals  "— 
which,  by  the  way,  are  the  only  games  at  which  the 
children  of  the  land  play  to-day — and  where  sometimes 
the  play  was  spoiled  and  stopped  by  some  of  the 
children  getting  into  a  pet,  and  lapsing  into  a  sullen 
silence,  Jesus  says  that  is  just  a  picture  of  the  childish 
perversity  of  the  Pharisees.  They  respond  neither 
to  the  mourning  of  the  one  nor  to  the  music  of  the 

14 


210  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

other,  but  because  John  came  neither  eating  bread  nor 
drinking  wine,  the}'  call  him  a  maniac,  and  say,  "  He 
hath  a  devil;"  while  of  Jesus,  who  has  no  ascetic 
ways,  but  mingles  in  the  gatherings  of  social  life,  a 
Man  amongst  men,  they  say,  "  Behold  a  gluttonous 
man  and  a  wine-bibber,  a  friend  of  publicans  and 
sinners."  And  having  recorded  this,  our  Evangelist 
inserts,  as  an  appropriate  sequel,  the  account  of  the 
supper  in  the  Pharisee's  house,  with  its  idyllic  interlude, 
played  by  a  woman's  hand,  a  narrative  which  shows 
how  Wisdom  is  justified  of  all  her  children,  and  how 
these  condescensions  of  Jesus,  His  intercourse  with 
even  those  who  were  ceremonially  or  morally  unclean, 
were  both  proper  and  beautiful. 

It  was  in  one  of  the  Galilean  towns,  perhaps  at  Nain, 
where  Jesus  was  surprised  at  receiving  an  invitation 
to  the  house  of  a  Pharisee.  Such  courtesies  on  the 
part  of  a  class  who  prided  themselves  on  their  exclu- 
siveness,  and  who  were  bitterly  intolerant  of  ail  who 
were  outside  their  narrow  circle,  were  exceptional  and 
rare.  Besides,  the  teaching  of  Jesus  was  diametrically 
opposed  to  the  leaven  of  the  Pharisees.  Between  the 
caste  of  the  one  and  the  Catholicism  of  the  other  was 
a  wide  gulf  of  divergence.  To  Jesus  the  heart  was 
everything,  and  the  outflowing  issues  were  coloured 
by  its  hues  ;  to  the  Pharisees  the  hand,  the  outward 
touch,  was  more  than  heart,  and  contact  more  than 
conduct.  Jesus  laid  a  Divine  emphasis  upon  character; 
the  cleanness  He  demanded  was  moral  cleanness, 
purity  of  heart ;  that  of  the  Pharisees  was  a  ceremonial 
cleanness,  the  avoidance  of  things  which  were  under 
a  ceremonial  ban.  And  so  they  magnified  the  jots  and 
tittles,  scrupulously  tithing  their  mint  and  anise,  while 
they  overlooked  completely  the  moralities  of  the  heart, 


vii.  36-50.]       THE  ANOINTING  OF  THE  FEET.  211 

and  reduced  to  a  mere  nothing  those  grander  virtues 
of  mercy  and  of  justice.  Between  the  Separatists  and 
Jesus  there  was  therefore  constant  friction,  which 
afterwards  developed  into  open  hostility ;  and  while 
they  ever  sought  to  damage  Him  with  opprobrious 
epithets,  and  to  bring  His  teaching  into  disrepute,  He 
did  not  fail  to  expose  their  hollowness  and  insincerity, 
tearing  off  the  veneer  with  which  they  sought  to  hide 
the  brood  of  viperous  things  their  cueed  had  gendered, 
and  to  hurl  against  their  whited  sepulchres  His  indig- 
nant "woes." 

It  would  almost  seem  as  if  Jesus  hesitated  in  accept- 
ing the  invitation,  for  the  tense  of  the  verb  "  desired  n 
implies  that  the  request  was  repeated.  Possibly 
other  arrangements  had  been  made,  or  perhaps  Jesus 
sought  to  draw  out  and  test  the  sincerity  of  the 
Pharisee,  who  in  kind  and  courteous  words  offered  his 
hospitality.  The  hesitation  would  certainly  not  arise 
from  any  reluctance  on  His  part,  for  Jesus  refused  no 
open  door ;  he  welcomed  any  opportunity  of  influenc- 
ing a  soul.  As  the  shepherd  of  His  own  parable  went 
over  the  mountainous  paths  in  quest  of  his  lone,  lost 
sheep,  so  Jesus  was  glad  to  risk  unkind  aspersions, 
and  to  bear  the  "  fierce  light "  of  hostile,  questioning 
eyes,  if  He  might  but  rescue  a  soul,  and  win  some 
erring  one  back  to  virtue  and  to  truth. 

The  character  of  the  host  we  cannot  exactly  deter- 
mine. The  narrative  lights  up  his  features  but  indis- 
tinctly, for  the  nameless  "sinner  "  is  the  central  object 
of  the  picture,  while  Simon  stands  in  the  background, 
out  of  focus,  and  so  somewhat  veiled  in  obscurity.  To 
man}'  he  appears  as  the  cold  and  heartless  censor, 
distant  and  haughty,  seeking  by  the  guile  of  hospitality 
to  entrap  Jesus,  hiding  behind  the  mask  of  friendship 


2\%  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

some  dark  and  sinister  motive.  But  such  deep  shadows 
are  cast  by  our  own  thoughts  rather  than  by  the 
narrative ;  they  are  the  random  "  guesses  after  truth/' 
instead  of  the  truth  itself.  It  will  be  noticed  that 
Jesus  does  not  impugn  in  the  least  his  motive  in 
proffering  his  hospitality ;  and  this,  though  but  a 
negative  evidence,  is  not  without  its  weight,  when  on 
a  similar  occasion  the  evil  motive  was  brought  to  light. 
The  only  charge  laid  against  him — if  charge  it  be — 
was  the  omission  of  certain  points  of  etiquette  that 
Eastern  hospitality  was  accustomed  to  observe,  and 
even  here  there  is  nothing  to  show  that  Jesus  was 
treated  differently  from  the  other  invited  guests.  The 
omission,  while  it  failed  to  single  out  Jesus  for  special 
honour,  might  still  mean  no  disrespect;  and  at  the 
most  it  was  a  breach  of  manners,  deportment,  rather 
than  of  morals,  just  one  of  those  lapses  Jesus  was  most 
ready  to  overlook  and  forgive.  We  shall  form  a  juster 
estimate  of  the  man's  character  if  we  regard  him  as  a 
seeker  after  truth.  Evidently  he  has  felt  a  drawing 
towards  Jesus  ;  indeed,  ver.  47  w7ould  almost  imply  that 
he  had  received  some  personal  benefit  at  His  hands. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  he  is  desirous  of  a  closer  and  a  freer 
intercourse.  His  mind  is  perplexed,  the  balances  of 
his  judgment  swinging  in  alternate  and  opposite  ways. 
A  new  problem  has  presented  itself  to  him,  and  in  that 
problem  is  one  factor  he  cannot  yet  value.  It  is  the 
unknown  quantity,  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Who  is  He? 
what  is  He?  A  prophet — the  Prophet— the  Christ? 
Such  are  the  questions  running  through  his  mind — 
questions  which  must  be  answered  soon,  as  his  thoughts 
and  opinions  have  ripened  into  convictions.  And  so 
he  invites  Jesus  to  his  house  and  board,  that  in 
the  nearer  vision  and  the  unfettered  freedom  of  social 


ii.  36-50.]       THE  ANOINTING  OF  THE  FEET  213 


intercourse  he  may  solve  the  great  enigma.  Nay,  he 
invites  Jesus  with  a  degree  of  earnestness,  putting 
upon  Him  the  constraint  of  a  great  desire;  and 
leaving  his  heart  open  to  conviction,  ready  to  embrace 
the  truth  as  soon  as  he  recognizes  it  to  be  truth,  he 
flings  open  the  door  of  his  hospitalities,  though  in  so 
doing  he  shakes  the  whole  fabric  of  Pharisaic  exclusive- 
ness  and  sanctity.     Seeking  after  truth,  the  truth  finds 

him.  .  .  . 

There  was   a  simplicity  and  freeness  m  the   social 
life  of  the   East  which  our  Western  civilization   can 
scarcely  understand.     The  door  of  the  guest-chamber 
was   left   open,    and   the  uninvited,   even   comparative 
strangers,  were  allowed  to  pass  in  and  out  during  the 
entertainment;  or  they  might  take  their  seats  by  the 
wall,  as  spectators  and  listeners.     It  was  so  here.     No 
sooner  have  the  guests   taken  their   places,    reclining 
around  the   table,  their  bared  feet   projecting   behind 
them,    than  the   usual   drift  of  the   uninvited  set   111, 
amongst  whom,  almost  unnoticed  in  the  excitements  of 
the  hour,  was  "a  woman  of  the  city."     Simon  in  his 
soliloquy  speaks  of  her  as  «  a  sinner ; "  but  had  we  his 
testimony   only,  we   should  hesitate  in  giving   to   the 
word  its  usually  received  meaning  ;  for  "  sinner  "  was 
a  pet  term  of  the  Pharisees,  applied  to  all  who  were 
outside  their  circle,  and  even  to  Jesus  Himself.     But 
when  our  Evangelist,  in  describing  her  character,  makes 
use  of  the  same  word,  we  can  only  interpret  the  "  sin- 
ner" in  one  way,   in  its  sensual,  depraved   meaning. 
And  with  this  agrees  the  phrase  "  a  woman  which  was 
in  the  city,"  which  seems  to   indicate  the   loose  rela- 
tions of  her  too-public  life. 

Bearing  in  her   hand  "an  alabaster   cruse  of  oint- 
ment," for  a  purpose  which  scon  became  apparent,  she 


214  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

passed  over  to  the  place  where  Jesus  sat,  and  stood 
directly  behind  Him.  Accustomed  as  she  had  been  to 
hide  her  deeds  in  the  veil  of  darkness,  nothing  but  the 
current  of  a  deep  emotion  could  have  carried  her  thus 
through  the  door  of  the  guest-chamber,  setting  her, 
alone  of  her  sex,  full  in  the  glare  of  the  lamps  and  the 
light  of  scornful  eyes ;  and  no  sooner  has  she  reached 
her  goal  than  the  storm  of  the  heart  breaks  in  a  rain 
of  tears,  which  fall  hot  and  fast  upon  the  feet  of  the 
Master.  This,  however,  is  no  part  of  her  plan ;  they 
were  impromptu  tears  she  could  not  restrain ;  and 
instantly  she  stoops  down,  and  with  the  loosened 
•tresses  of  her  hair  she  wipes  His  feet,  kissing  them 
passionately  as  she  did  so.  There  is  a  delicate  mean- 
ing in  the  construction  of  the  Greek  verb,  "  she  began 
to  wet  His  feet  with  her  tears ; "  it  implies  that  the 
action  was  not  continued,  as  when  afterwards  she 
"  anointed"  His  feet.  It  was  momentary,  instanta- 
neous, checked  soon  as  it  was  discovered.  Then  pour- 
ing from  her  flask  the  fragrant  nard,  she  proceeded  with 
loving,  leisurely  haste  to  anoint  His  feet,  until  the  whole 
chamber  was  redolent  of  the  sweet  perfume. 

But  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  strange  episode, 
this  "song  without  words,"  struck  by  the  woman's 
hands  as  from  a  lyre  of  alabaster  ?  It  was  evidently 
something  determined,  prearranged.  The  phrase  u  when 
she  knew  that  He  was  sitting  at  meat "  means  some- 
thing more  than  she  "heard."  Her  knowledge  as  to 
where  Jesus  was  had  not  come  to  her  in  a  casual  way, 
in  the  vagrant  gossip  of  the  town;  it  had  come  by 
search  and  inquiry  on  her  part,  as  if  the  plan  were 
already  determined,  and  she  were  eager  to  carry  it  out. 
The  cruse  of  ointment  that  she  brings  also  reveals  the 
settled   resolve   that   she   came   on  purpose,  and   she 


vii.  36-50.J       THE  ANOINTING   OF  THE  FEET.  215 

came  only,  to  anoint  the  feet  of  Jesus.  The  word,  too, 
rendered  "she  brought"  has  a  deeper  meaning  than 
our  translation  conveys.  It  is  a  word  that  is  used  in 
ten  other  passages  of  the  New  Testament,  where  it 
is  invariably  rendered  "receive,"  or  "received,"  refer- 
ring to  something  received  as  a  wage,  or  as  a  gift,  or 
as  a  prize.  Used  here  in  the  narrative,  it  implies  that 
the  cruse  of  ointment  had  not  been  bought;  it  was 
something  she  had  received  as  a  gift,  or  possibly  as 
the  wages  of  her  sin.  And  not  only  was  it  prearranged, 
part  of  a  deliberate  intention,  but  evidently  it  was  not 
displeasing  to  Jesus.  He  did  not  resent  it.  He  gives 
Himself  up  passively  to  the  woman's  will.  He  allows 
her  to  touch,  and  even  to  kiss  His  feet,  though  He 
knows  that  to  society  she  is  a  moral  leper,  and  that 
her  fragrant  ointment  is  possibly  the  reward  of  her 
shame.  We  must,  then,  look  behind  the  deed  to  the 
motive.  To  Jesus  the  ointment  and  the  tears  were 
full  of  meaning,  eloquent  beyond  any  power  of  words. 
Can  we  discover  that  meaning,  and  read  why  they 
were  so  welcome  ?     We  think  we  may. 

And  here  let  us  say  that  Simon's  thoughts  were 
perfectly  natural  and  correct,  with  no  word  or  tone 
that  we  can  censure.  Canon  Farrar,  it  is  true,  detects 
in  the  "  This  man  "  with  which  he  speaks  of  Jesus  a 
"  supercilious  scorn ; "  but  we  fail  to  see  the  least 
scorn,  or  even  disrespect,  for  the  pronoun  Simon  uses 
is  the  identical  word  used  by  St.  Matthew  (Matt.  iii.  3), 
of  John  the  Baptist,  when  he  says,  "  This  is  he  that  was 
spoken  of  by  the  prophet  Esaias,"  and  the  word  of  the 
"  voice  from  heaven  "  which  said,  "  This  is  My  beloved 
Son  "  (Matt.  iii.  17).  That  the  woman  was  a  sinner 
Simon  knew  well ;  and  would  not  Jesus  know  it  too,  if 
He  were  a  prophet?     Doubtless  He  would;  but  as 


2i5  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

Simon  marks  no  sign  of  disapproval  upon  the  face  of 
Jesus,  the  enigmatical  "if"  grows  larger  in  his  mind, 
and  he  begins  to  think  that  Jesus  has  scarcely  the  pre- 
science— the  power  of  seeing  through  things — that  a 
true  prophet  would  have.  Simon's  reasoning  was  right, 
but  his  facts  were  wrong.  He  imagined  that  Jesus  did 
not  know  "  who  and  what  manner  of  woman  "  this  was ; 
whereas  Jesus  knew  more  than  he,  for  He  knew  not  only 
the  past  of  shame,  but  a  present  of  forgiveness  and  hope. 
And  what  did  the  tears  and  the  ointment  mean,  that 
Jesus  should  receive  them  so  readily,  and  that  He  should 
speak  of  them  so  approvingly  ?  The  parable  Jesus 
spoke  to  Simon  will  explain  it.  "  Simon,  I  have  some- 
what to  say  unto  thee,"  said  Jesus,  answering  his 
thoughts — for  He  had  heard  them — by  words.  And 
falling  naturally  into  the  parabolic  form  of  speech — as 
He  did  when  He  wanted  to  make  His  meaning  more 
startling  and  impressive — He  said,  "  A  certain  money- 
lender had  two  debtors :  the  one  owed  five  hundred 
pence,  and  the  other  fifty.  When  they  had  not  where- 
with to  pay,  he  forgave  them  both.  Which  of  them 
therefore  will  love  him  most  ?  "  A  question  to  which 
Simon  could  promptly  answer,  u  He,  I  suppose,  to 
whom  he  forgave  the  most."  It  is  clear,  then,  what- 
ever others  might  see  in  the  woman's  deed,  that  Jesus 
read  in  it  the  expression  of  her  love,  and  that  He 
accepted  it  as  such ;  the  tears  and  outpoured  ointment 
were  the  broken  utterances  of  an  affection  which  was 
too  deep  for  words.  But  if  her  offering — as  it  certainly 
was — was  the  gift  of  love,  how  shall  we  explain  her 
tears  ?  for  love,  in  the  presence  of  the  beloved,  does 
not  weep  so  passionately,  indeed  does  not  weep  at  all, 
except,  it  may  be,  tears  of  joy,  or  tears  of  a  mutual 
sorrow.     In  this  way:   As  the  wind  blows  landward 


rii.  36-50.]       THE  ANOINTING   OF  THE  FEET.  217 

from  the  sea,  the  mountain  ranges  cool  the  clouds,  and 
cause  them  to  unlock  their  treasures,  in  the  fertile  and 
refreshing  rains;  so  in  the  heart  of  this  "sinner"  a 
cloud  of  recollections  is  blown  up  suddenly  from  her 
dark  past ;  the  memories  of  her  shame — even  though 
that  shame  be  now  forgiven — sweep  across  her  soul 
with  resistless  force,  for  penitence  does  not  end  when 
forgiveness  is  assured;  and  as  she  finds  herself  in 
the  presence  of  Infinite  Purity,  what  wonder  that  the 
heart's  great  deeps  are  broken  up,  and  that  the  wild 
storm  of  conflicting  emotions  within  should  find  relief 
in  a  rain  of  tears  ?  Tears  of  penitence  they  doubtless 
were,  bitter  with  the  sorrow  and  the  shame  of  years 
of  guilt ;  but  they  were  tears  of  gratitude  and  holy  love 
as  well,  all  suffused  and  brightened  by  the  touch  of 
mercy  and  the  light  of  hope.  And  >o  the  passionate 
weeping  was  no  acted  grief,  no  hysterical  tempest ;  it 
was  the  perfectly  natural  accompaniment  of  profound 
emotion,  that  storm  of  mingled  but  diverse  elements 
which  now  swept  through  her  soul.  Her  tears,  like 
the  dew-drops  that  hang  upon  leaf  and  flower,  were 
wrought  in  the  darkness,  fashioned  by  the  Night,  and 
at  the  same  time  they  were  the  jewels  that  graced  the 
robe  of  a  new  dawn,  the  dawn  of  a  better,  a  purer 
life. 

But  how  came  this  new  affection  within  her  heart, 
an  affection  so  deep  that  it  must  have  tears  and  anoint- 
ings for  its  expression — this  new  affection,  which  has 
become  a  pure  and  holy  passion,  and  which  breaks 
through  conventional  bonds,  as  it  has  broken  through 
the  old  habits,  the  ill  usages  of  a  life  ?  Jesus  Himself 
traces  for  us  this  affection  to  its  source.  He  tells  us — 
for  the  parable  is  all  meaningless  unless  we  recognize 
in  the  five-hundred-pence  debtor  the  sinning  woman — 


2i8  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

that  her  great  love  grows  out  of  her  great  forgiveness, 
a  past  forgiveness  too,  for  Jesus  speaks  of  the  change 
as  already  accomplished  :  "  Her  sins,  which  were  many, 
are  (have  been)  forgiven."  And  here  we  touch  an  un- 
written chapter  of  the  Divine  life;  for  as  the  woman's 
love  flows  up  around  Jesus,  casting  its  treasures  at 
His  feet,  so  the  forgiveness  must  first  have  come 
from  Jesus.  His  voice  it  must  have  been  which  said, 
41  Let  there  be  light,"  and  which  turned  the  chaos  of 
her  dark  soul  into  another  Paradise.  At  any  rate,  she 
thinks  she  owes  to  Him  her  all.  Her  new  creation, 
with  its  deliverance  from  the  t}Tannous  past ;  her  new 
joys  and  hopes,  the  spring-blossom  of  a  new  and 
heavenly  existence;  the  conscious  purity  which  has 
now  taken  the  place  of  lust — she  owes  all  to  the  word 
and  power  of  Jesus.  But  when  this  change  took  place, 
or  when,  in  the  great  transit,  this  Venus  of  the  moral 
firmament  passed  across  the  disc  of  the  Sun,  we  do  not 
know.  St.  John  inserts  in  his  story  one  little  incident, 
which  is  like  a  piece  of  mosaic  dropped  out  from  the 
Gospels  of  the  Synoptists,  of  a  woman  who  was  taken 
in  her  sin  and  brought  to  Jesus.  And  when  the  hands 
of  her  accusers  were  not  clean  enough  to  cast  the  first 
stone,  but  they  shrank  one  by  one  out  of  sight,  self- 
condemned,  Jesus  bade  the  penitent  one  to  "  go  in 
peace,  and  sin  no  more."  *  Are  the  two  characters 
identical  ?  and  does  the  forgiven  one,  dismissed  into 
peace,  now  return  to  bring  to  her  Saviour  her  offer- 
ing of  gratitude  and  love  ?  We  can  only  say  that  such 
an  identification  is  at  least  possible,  and  more  so  far 
than   the  improbable  identification  of  tradition,  which 

*  The  narrative  is  of  doubtful  authenticity ;  but  even  should  it  be 
proved  to  be  a  postscript  by  some  later  scribe,  it  would  still  point 
to  a  tradition,  which,  as  Stier  says,  was  "  well  founded  and  genuine." 


vii.  36-50.]       THE  ANOINTING  OF  THE  FEET.  219 

confounds  this  nameless  "sinner"  with  Mary  Mag- 
dalene, which  is  an  assumption  perfectly  baseless  and 
most  unlikely. 

And  so  in  this  erring  one,  who  now  puts  her  crown 
of  fragrance  upon  the  feet  of  Jesus,  since  she  is  un- 
worthy to  put  it  upon  His  head,  we  see  a  penitent 
and  forgiven  soul.  Somewhere  Jesus  found  her,  out 
on  the  forbidden  paths,  the  paths  of  sin,  which,  steep 
and  slippery,  lead  down  to  death ;  His  look  arrested  her, 
for  it  cast  within  her  heart  the  light  of  a  new  hope ; 
His  presence,  which  was  the  embodiment  of  a  purity 
infinite  and  absolute,  shot  through  her  soul  the  deep 
consciousness  and  conviction  of  her  guilt ;  and  doubt- 
less upon  her  ears  had  fallen  the  words  of  the  great 
absolution  and  the  Divine  benediction,  "  Thy  sins  are 
all  forgiven ;  go  in  peace,"  words  which  to  her  made 
all  things  new — a  new  heart  within,  and  a  new  earth 
around.  And  now,  regenerate  and  restored,  the  sad 
past  forgiven,  all  the  currents  of  her  thought  and  life- 
reversed,  the  love  of  sin  turned  into  a  perfect  loathing, 
her  language,  spoken  in  tears,  kisses,  and  fragrant 
nard,  is  the  language  of  the  Psalmist,  "  O  Lord,  I  will 
praise  Thee ;  for  though  Thou  wast  angry  with  me, 
Thine  anger  is  turned  away,  and  Thou  comfortedst 
me."  It  was  the  Magnificat  of  a  forgiven  and  a  loving 
soul. 

Simon  had  watched  the  woman's  actions  in  silence, 
though  in  evident  displeasure.  He  would  have  resented 
her  touch,  and  have  forbade  even  her  presence ;  but 
found  under  his  roof,  she  became  in  a  certain  sense 
a  guest,  shielded  by  the  hospitable  courtesies  of  Eastern 
life.  But  if  he  said  nothing,  he  thought  much,  and  his 
thoughts  were  hard  and  bitter.  I  ie  looked  upon  the 
woman  as  a  moral  leper,  an  outcast.     There  was  defile- 


220  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

ment  in  her  touch,  and  he  would  have  shaken  it  off 
from  him  as  if  it  were  a  viper,  fit.  only  to  be  cast  into 
the  fire  of  a  burning  indignation.  Now  Jesus  must 
teach  him  a  lesson,  and  throw  his  thoughts  back  upon 
himself.  And  first  He  teaches  him  that  there  is  for- 
giveness for  sin,  even  the  sin  of  uncleanness;  and 
in  this  we  see  the  bringing  in  of  a  better  hope.  The 
Law  said,  "The  soul  that  sinneth,  it  shall  surely  die;" 
it  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  people  of  Israel.  The  Law 
had  but  one  voice-  for  the  adulterer  and  adulteress, 
the  voice  which  was  the  knell  of  a  sharp  and  fearful 
doom,  without  reprieve  or  mercy  of  any  kind.  It  cast 
upon  them  the  deadly  rain  of  stones,  as  if  it  would 
hurl  a  whole  Sinai  upon  them.  But  Jesus  comes  to 
man  with  a  message  of  mercy  and  of  hope.  He  pro- 
claims a  deliverance  from  the  sin,  and  a  pardon  for  the 
sinner;  nay,  He  offers  Himself,  as  at  once  the  Forgiver 
of  sin  and  the  Saviour  from  sin.  Let  Him  but  see 
it  repented  of;  let  Him  but  see  the  tears  of  penitence, 
or  hear  the  sighs  of  a  broken  and  contrite  heart,  and 
He  steps  forward  at  once  to  deliver  and  to  save.  The 
Valley  of  Achor,  where  the  Law  sets  up  its  memorial  of 
shame,  Jesus  turns  into  a  door  of  hope.  He  speaks 
life  where  the  Law  spoke  death  ;  He  offers  hope  where 
the  Lav/  gave  but  despair ;  and  where  exacting  Law 
gave  pains  and  fearful  punishment  only,  the  Mediator 
of  the  New  Covenant,  to  the  penitent  though  erring 
ones,  spoke  pardon  and  peace,  even  the  perfect  peace, 
the  eternal  peace. 

And  Jesus  teaches  Simon  another  lesson.  He  teaches 
him  to  judge  himself,  and  not  either  by  his  own  fictitious 
standard,  by  the  Pharisaic  table  of  excellence,  but  by 
the  Divine  standard.  Holding  up  as  a  mirror  the 
example  of  the  woman,  Jesus  gives  to  Simon  a  portrait 


vii.  36-50.]       THE  ANOINTING  OF  THE  FEET,  221 

of  his  own  self,  as  seen  in  the  heavenly  light,  all 
shrunken  and  dwarfed,  the  large  "  I "  of  Pharisaic 
complacency  becoming,  in  comparison,  small  indeed. 
Turning  to  the  woman,  He  said  unto  Simon,  "Seest 
thou  this  woman  ?  "  (And  Simon  had  not  seen  her ; 
he  had  only  seen  her  shadow,  the  shadow  of  her  sinful 
past).  "  I  entered  into  thine  house ;  thou  gavest  Me  no 
water  for  My  feet :  but  she  hath  wetted  My  feet  with 
her  tears,  and  wiped  them  with  her  hair.  Thou  gavest 
Me  no  kiss :  but  she,  since  the  time  I  came  in,  hath 
not  ceased  to  kiss  My  feet.  My  head  with  oil  thou 
didst  not  anoint :  but  she  hath  anointed  My  feet  with 
ointment."  It  is  a  problem  of  the  pronouns,  in  which 
the  "  I "  being  given,  it  is  desired  to  find  the  relative 
values  of  "  thou  "  and  "  she."  And  how  beautifully 
dees  Jesus  work  it  out,  according  to  the  rules  of  Divine 
proportions !  With  what  antithetical  skill  does  He 
make  His  comparison,  or  rather  His  contrast  1  "  Thou 
gavest  me  no  water  for  My  feet ;  she  hath  wetted  My 
feet  with  her  tears,  and  wiped  them  with  her  hair. 
Thou  gavest  me  no  kiss :  she  hath  not  ceased  to  kiss  my 
feet.  My  head  with  oil  thou  didst  not  anoint :  she  hath 
anointed  My  feet  with  ointment." 

And  so  Jesus  sets  over  against  the  omissions  of 
Simon  the  loving  and  lavish  attentions  of  the  woman ; 
and  while  reproving  him,  not  for  a  lack  of  civility,  but 
for  a  want  of  heartiness  in  his  reception  of  Himself, 
He  shows  how  deep  and  full  run  the  cunents  of  her 
affection,  breaking  through  the  banks  and  bounds  of 
conventionality  in  their  sweet  overflow,  while  as  yet 
the  currents  of  his  love  were  intermittent,  shallow,  and 
somewhat  cold.  He  does  not  denounce  this  Simon  as 
having  no  part  or  lot  in  this  matter.  No ;  He  even 
credits  him  with  a  little  love,  as  He  speaks  of  him  as  a 


222  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

pardoned,  justified  soul.  And  it  was  true.  The  heart 
of  Simon  had  been  drawn  toward  Jesus,  and  in  the 
urgent  invitation  and  these  proffered  hospitalities  we 
can  discern  a  nascent  affection.  His  love  is  yet  but  in 
the  bud.  It  is  there,  a  thing  of  life  ;  but  it  is  confined, 
constrained,  and  lacking  the  sweetness  of  the  ripened 
and  opened  flower.  Jesus  does  not  cut  off  the  budding 
affection,  and  cast  it  out  amongst  the  withered  and  dead 
things,  but  sprinkling  it  with  the  dew  of  His  speech, 
and  throwing  upon  it  the  sunshine  of  His  approving 
look,  He  leaves  it  to  develop,  ripening  into  an  after- 
harvest  of  fragrance  and  of  beauty.  And  why  was 
Simon's  love  more  feeble  and  immature  than  that  of  the 
woman  ?  First,  because  he  did  not  see  so  much  in 
Jesus  as  she  did.  He  was  }ret  stumbling  over  the  "  if," 
with  some  lingering  doubts  as  to  whether  He  were 
"  the  prophet ;  "  to  her  He  is  more  than  a  "  prophet," 
even  her  Lord  and  her  Saviour,  covering  her  past 
with  a  mantle  of  mercy,  and  opening  within  her  heart 
a  heaven.  Then,  too,  Simon's  forgiveness  was  not  so 
great  as  hers.  Not  that  any  forgiveness  can  be  less 
than  entire  ;  for  when  Heaven  saves  it  is  not  a  salva- 
tion by  instalments — certain  sins  remitted,  while  others 
are  held  back  uncancelled.  But  Simon's  views  of  sin 
were  not  so  sharp  and  vivid  as  were  those  of  the 
woman.  The  atmosphere  of  Phariseeism  in  its  moral 
aspects  was  hazy ;  it  magnified  human  virtues,  and 
created  all  sorts  of  illusive  mirages  of  self-righteousness 
and  reputed  holiness,  and  doubtless  Simon's  vision 
had  been  impaired  by  the  refracting  atmosphere  of  his 
creed.  The  greatness  of  our  salvation  is  ever  measured 
by  the  greatness  of  our  danger  and  our  guilt.  The 
heavier  the  burden  and  weight  of  condemnation,  the 
deeper  is  the  peace  and  the  higher  are  the  ecstasies  of 


vii.  36-50.]       THE  ANOINTING  OF  THE  FEET.  223 

joy  when  that  condemnation  is  removed.  Shall  we  say, 
then,  "We  must  sin  more,  that  love  may  more  abound  "  ? 
Nay,  we  need  not,  we  must  not ;  for  as  Godet  says, 
"  What  is  wanting  to  the  best  of  us,  in  order  to  love 
much,  is  not  sin,  but  the  knowledge  of  it."  And  this 
deeper  knowledge  of  sin,  the  more  vivid  realization  of 
its  guilt,  its  virulence,  its  all-pervasiveness,  comes 
just  in  proportion  as  we  approach  Christ.  Standing 
close  up  to  the  cross,  feeling  the  mortal  agonies  of 
Him  whose  death  was  necessary  as  sin's  atonement, 
in  that  vivid  light  of  redeeming  love  even  the  strict 
moralist,  the  Pharisee  of  the  Pharisees,  could  speak  of 
himself  as  the  "chief"  of  sinners. 

The  lesson  was  over,  and  Jesus  dismissed  the  woman 
— who,  with  her  empty  alabaster  flask,  had  lingered  at 
the  feast,  and  who  had  heard  all  the  conversation — 
with  the  double  assurance  of  pardon  :  "  Thy  sins  are 
forgiven ;  thy  faith  hath  saved  thee ;  go  in  peace." 
And  such  is  the  Divine  order  everywhere  and  always — 
Faith,  Love,  Peace.  Faith  is  the  procuring  cause,  or 
the  condition  of  salvation ;  love  and  peace  are  its  after- 
fruits  ;  for  without  faith,  love  would  be  only  fear,  and 
peace  itself  would  be  unrest. 

She  went  in  peace,  li  the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth 
all  understanding;"  but  she  left  behind  her  the  music 
of  her  tears  and  the  sweet  fragrance  of  her  deed,  a 
fragrance  and  a  music  which  have  filled  the  whole 
world,  and  which,  floating  across  the  valley  of  death, 
will  pass  up  into  heaven  itself ! 

There  was  still  one  little  whisper  of  murmuring,  or 
questioning  rather ;  for  the  guests  were  startled  by  the 
boldness  of  His  words,  and  asked  among  themselves, 
"  Who  is  this  that  even  forgiveth  sins  ?  "  But  it  will 
be  noticed  that  Simon  himself  is  no  longer  among  the 


224  THE   GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

questioners,  the  doubters.  Jesus  is  to  him  "  the  Pro- 
phet," and  more  than  a  prophet,  for  who  can  forgive 
sins  but  God  alone  ?  And  though  we  hear  no  more 
of  him  or  of  his  deeds,  we  may  rest  assured  that 
his  conquered  heart  was  given  without  reserve  to 
Jesus,  and  that  he  too  learned  to  love  with  a  true 
affection,  even  with  the  "  perfect  love,"  which  "  casteth 
out  fear." 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE  PARABLE  OF    THE  SOIVER. 
Luke  viii.  1-18. 

IN  a  single  parenthetical  sentence  our  Evangelist 
indicates  a  marked  change  in  the  mode  of  the 
Divine  ministry.  Hitherto  "His  own  city/'  Capernaum, 
has  been  a  sort  of  centre,  from  which  the  lines  of  light 
and  blessing  have  radiated.  Now,  however,  He  leaves 
Capernaum,  and  makes  a  circuit  through  the  province 
of  Galilee,  going  through  its  cities  and  villages  in  a 
systematic,  and  as  the  verb  would  imply,  a  leisurely 
way,  preaching  the  "good  tidings  of  the  kingdom  of 
God."  Though  no  mention  is  made  of  them,  we  are 
not  to  suppose  that  miracles  were  suspended;  but 
evidently  they  were  set  in  the  background,  as  secondary 
things,  the  by-plays  or  "  asides  "  of  the  Divine  Teacher, 
who  now  is  intent  upon  delivering  His  message,  the 
last  message,  too,  that  they  would  hear  from  Him. 
Accompanying  Him,  and  forming  an  imposing  demon- 
stration, were  His  twelve  disciples,  together  with 
"many"  women,  who  ministered  unto  them  of  their 
substance,  among  whom  were  three  prominent  ones, 
probably  persons  of  position  and  influence — Mary  of 
Magdala,  Joanna,  wife  of  Chuza,  Herod's  steward, 
and  Susanna,  who  had  been  healed  by  Jesus  of 
"  evil  spirits  and  infirmities  " — which  last  word,  in  New 
TVctnmOTit  lanrua^e.  is  a  svnonvra  for  nhysical  weak- 

IS 


226  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

ness  and  disorder.  Of  the  particulars  and  results  of 
this  mission  we  know  nothing,  unless  we  may  see, 
in  the  "  great  multitude  "  which  followed  and  thronged 
Jesus  on  His  return,  the  harvest  reaped  from  the 
Galilean  hills.  Our  Evangelist,  at  any  rate,  links  them 
together,  as  if  the  "great  multitude"  which  now  lines 
the  shore  was,  in  part  at  least,  the  cloud  of  eager  souls 
which  had  been  caught  up  and  borne  along  on  His 
fervid  speech,  as  the  echoes  of  the  kingdom  went 
resounding  among  the  hills  and  vales  of  Galilee. 

Returning  to  Capernaum,  whither  the  crowds  follow 
Him,  every  city  sending  its  contingent  of  curious  or 
conquered  souls,  Jesus,  as  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark 
inform  us,  leaves  the  house,  and  seeks  the  open  stretch 
of  shore,  where  from  a  boat — probably  the  familiar  boat 
of  Simon — He  addresses  the  multitudes,  adopting  now, 
as  His  favourite  mode  of  speech,  the  amplified  parable. 
It  is  probable  that  He  had  observed  on  the  part  of 
His  disciples  an  undue  elation  of  spirit.  Reading  the 
crowds  numerically,  and  not  discerning  the  different 
motives  which  had  brought  them  together,  their  eyes 
deceived  them.  They  imagined  that  these  eager  multi- 
tudes were  but  a  wave-sheaf  of  the  harvest  already 
ripe,  which  only  waited  their  gathering-in.  But  it  is 
not  so ;  and  Jesus  sifts  and  winnows  His  audience, 
to  show  His  disciples  that  the  apparent  is  not  always 
the  real,  and  that  between  the  hearers  of  the  word 
and  the  doers  there  will  ever  be  a  wide  margin  ot 
disappointment  and  comparative  failure.  The  harvest, 
in  God's  husbandry,  as  in  man's,  does  not  depend 
altogether  upon  the  quality  of  the  seed  or  the  faithful- 
ness of  the  sower,  but  upon  the  nature  of  the  soil  on 
which  it  falls. 

As  the  sow7er  went  forth  to  sow  his  seed,  "some  fell 


viii.  1-18.]       THE  PARABLE   OF  THE  SOWER.  227 

by  the  way-side,  and  it  was  trodden  under-foot,  and  the 
birds  of  the  heaven  devoured  it."  In  his  carefulness 
to  cover  all  his  ground,  the  sower  had  gone  close  up 
to  the  boundary,  and  some  of  the  seed  had  fallen  on 
the  edge  of  the  bare  and  trampled  path,  where  it  lay 
homeless  and  exposed.  It  was  in  contact  with  the 
earth,  but  it  was  a  mechanical,  and  not  a  vital  touch. 
There  was  no  correspondence,  no  communion  between 
them.  Instead  of  welcoming  and  nourishing  the  seed, 
it  held  it  aloof,  in  a  cold,  repelling  way.  Had  the  soil 
been  sympathetic  and  receptive,  it  held  within  itself 
all  the  elements  of  growth.  Touched  by  the  subtle 
life  that  was  hidden  within  the  seed,  the  dead  earth 
itself  had  lived,  growing  up  into  blades  of  promise, 
and  from  the  full  ear  throwing  itself  forward  into  the 
future  years.  But  the  earth  was  hard  and  unreceptive  ; 
its  possibilities  of  blessing  were  locked  up  and  buried 
beneath  a  crust  of  trampled  soil  that  was  callous  and 
unresponsive  as  the  rock  itself.  And  so  the  seed  lay 
unwelcomed  and  alone,  and  the  life  which  the  warm 
touch  of  earth  would  have  loosened  and  set  free 
remained  within  its  husk  as  a  dead  thing,  without  voice 
or  hearing.  There  was  nothing  else  for  it  but  to  be 
ground  into  dust  by  the  passing  foot  or  to  be  picked 
up  by  the  foraging  birds. 

The  parable  was  at  once  a  prophecy  and  an  experi- 
ence. Forming  a  part  of  the  crowd  which  surrounded 
Jesus  was  an  outer  ring  of  hearers  who  came  but  to 
criticize  and  to  cavil.  They  had  no  desire  to  be 
taught — at  any  rate  by  such  a  teacher.  They  were 
themselves  the  "  knowing  ones,"  the  learned,  and  they 
looked  with  suspicion  and  ill-concealed  scorn  upon 
the  youthful  Nazarene.  Turning  upon  the  Speaker 
a  cold,  questioning  glance,  or  exchanging  signals  with 


228  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

one  another,  they  were  evidently  hostile  to  Jesus, 
listening,  it  is  true,  but  with  a  feline  alertness,  hoping 
to  entrap  the  sweet  Singer  in  His  speech.  Upon 
these,  and  such  as  these,  the  word  of  God,  even  when 
spoken  by  the  Divine  Son,  made  no  impression.  It 
was  a  speaking  to  the  rocks,  with  no  other  result  than 
the  awaking  of  a  few  echoes  of  mockery  and  banter. 

The  experience  is  still  true.  Among  those  who 
frequent  the  house  of  God  are  many  whose  worship  is 
a  cold,  conventional  thing.  Drawn  thither  by  custom, 
by  the  social  instinct,  or  by  the  love  of  change,  they 
pass  within  the  gates  of  the  Lord's  house,  ostensibly 
to  worship.  But  they  are  insincere,  indifferent ;  they 
bring  their  body,  and  deposit  it  in  the  accustomed  pew, 
but  they  might  as  well  have  put  there  a  bag  of  ashes 
or  an  automaton  of  brass.  Their  mind  is  not  here, 
and  the  cold,  stolid  features,  unlighted  by  any  passing 
gleam,  tell  too  surely  of  a  vacancy  or  vagrancy  of 
thought.  And  even  while  the  lips  are  throwing  off 
mechanically  Jubilates  and  Te  Deutns  their  heart  is 
"far  from  Me,"  chasing  some  phantom  "will  o*  the 
wisp,"  or  dreaming  their  dreams  of  pleasure,  gain,  and 
ease.  The  worship  of  God  they  themselves  would 
call  it,  but  God  does  not  recognize  it.  He  calls  their 
prayers  a  weariness,  their  incense  an  abomination. 
Theirs  is  but  a  worship  of  Self,  as,  setting  up  their 
image  of  clay,  they  summon  earth's  musicians  to  play 
their  sweet  airs  about  it.  God,  with  them,  is  set  back, 
ignored,  proscribed.  The  personal  "I"  is  writ  so 
large,  and  is  so  all-pervasive,  that  there  is  no  room 
for  the  I  AM.  Living  for  earth,  all  the  fibres  of  their 
being  growing  downwards  towards  it,  heaven  is  not 
even  a  cloud  drifting  across  their  distant  vision ;  it  is 
an  empty  space,  a  vacancy.     To  the  voices  of  earth 


Tiii.  i-iS.]       THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  SOWER.  229 

their  ears  are  keenly  sensitive ;  its  very  whispers  thrill 
them  with  new  excitements ;  but  to  the  voices  of 
Heaven  they  are  deaf;  the  still,  small  voice  is  all 
unheard,  and  even  the  thunders  of  God  are  so  muffled 
as  to  be  unrecognized  and  scarcely  audible.  And  so 
the  word  of  God  falls  upon  their  ears  in  vain.  It  drops 
upon  a  soil  that  is  impervious  and  antipathetic,  a 
heart  which  knows  no  penitence,  and  a  life  whose 
fancied  goodness  has  no  room  for  mercy,  or  which  finds 
such  complete  satisfaction  in  the  gains  of  unrighteous- 
ness or  the  pleasures  of  sin  that  it  is  purposely  and 
persistently  deaf  to  all  higher,  holier  voices.  Ulysses 
filled  his  ears  with  wax,  lest  he  should  yield  himself 
up  to  the  enchantments  of  the  sirens.  The  fable  is 
true,  even  when  read  in  reversed  lines ;  for  when 
Virtue,  Purity,  and  Faith  invite  men  to  their  resting- 
place,  calling  them  to  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed,  and  to 
the  Paradise  of  God,  they  charm  in  vain.  Deafening 
their  ears,  and  not  deigning  to  give  a  passing  thought 
to  the  higher  call,  men  drift  past  the  heaven  which 
might  have  been  theirs,  until  these  holier  voices  are 
silenced  by  the  awful  distance. 

That  the  word  of  God  is  inoperative  here  is  through 
no  fault,  either  of  the  seed  or  of  the  sower.  That 
word  is  still  "  quick  and  powerful,"  but  it  is  sterile, 
because  it  finds  nothing  on  which  it  may  grow.  It  is 
not  "  understood,"  as  Jesus  Himself  explains.  It  falls 
upon  the  outward  ear  alone,  and  there  only  as  unmean- 
ing sound,  like  the  accents  of  some  unknown  tongue. 
And  so  the  wicked  one  easily  takes  away  the  word  from 
their  heart ;  for,  as  the  preposition  itself  implies,  that 
word  had  not  fallen  into  the  heart;  it  was  lying  on  it  in  a 
superficial  way,  like  the  seed  cast  upon  the  trampled  path. 

Is  there,  then,  no  hope  for  these  way-side  hearers  ? 


230  THE   GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

and  sparing  our  strength  and  toil,  shall  we  leave  them 
for  soils  more  promising  ?  By  no  means.  The  fallow 
ground  may  be  broken  up;  the  ploughshare  can  loosen 
the  hardened,  unproductive  earth.  Pulverized  by  the 
teeth  of  the  harrow  or  the  teeth  of  the  frost,  the  barren 
track  itself  disappears ;  it  passes  up  into  the  advanced 
classes,  giving  back  the  seed  with  which  it  is  now 
entrusted,  with  a  thirty,  sixty,  or  a  hundredfold  increase. 
And  this  is  true  in  the  higher  husbandry,  in  which 
we  are  permitted  to  be  "  God's  fellow-workers."  The 
heart  which  to-day  is  indifferent  or  repellent,  to- 
morrow, chastened  by  sickness  or  torn  by  the  plough- 
share of  some  keen  grief,  may  hail  with  eagerness  the 
message  it  rejected  and  even  scorned  before.  Amid 
the  penury  and  shame  of  the  far  country,  the  father's 
house,  from  which  he  had  wantonly  turned,  now  comes 
to  the  prodigal  like  a  sweet  dream,  and  even  its  bread 
has  all  the  aroma  and  sweetness  of  ambrosial  food. 
No  matter  how  disappointing  the  soil,  we  are  to  do 
our  duty,  which  is  to  "  sow  beside  all  waters ; n  nor 
should  any  calculations  of  imaginary  productiveness 
make  us  slack  our  hand  or  cast  away  our  hope.  When 
the  Spirit  is  poured  out  from  on  high,  even  "  the 
wilderness  becomes  as  a  fruitful  field,"  and  death  itself 
becomes  instinct  with  life. 

"  And  other  fell  on  the  rock  ;  and  as  soon  as  it  grew 
it  withered  away,  because  it  had  no  moisture."  Here 
is  a  second  quality  of  soil.  It  is  not,  however,  a  soil 
that  is  weakened  by  an  intermixture  of  gravel  or  of 
stones,  but  rather  a  soil  that  is  thinly  spread  upon  the 
rock.  It  is  good  soil  as  far  as  it  goes,  but  it  is  shallow. 
It  receives  the  seed  gladly,  as  if  that  were  its  one 
mission,  as  indeed  it  is;  it  gives  the  seed  a  hiding- 
place,  throwing  over  it  a  mantle  of  earth,  so  that  the 


viii.  i-iS.]       THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  SOWER.  23! 

birds  shall  not  devour  it.  It  lays  its  warm  touch  upon 
the  enveloping  husk,  as  the  Master  once  laid  His 
finger  upon  the  bier,  and  to  the  imprisoned  life  which 
was  within  it  said,  "  Arise  and  multiply.  Pass  up 
into  the  sunlight,  and  give  God's  children  bread."  And 
the  seed  responds,  obeys.  The  emerging  life  throws 
out  its  two  wings — one  downwards,  as  its  roots  clasp 
the  soil;  one  upwards,  as  the  blade,  pushing  the  clods 
aside,  makes  for  the  light  and  the  heavens  that  are 
above  it.  "Surely,"  we  should  say,  if  we  read  the 
future  from  the  present  merely,  "  the  hundredfold  is 
here.  Pull  down  your  barns  and  build  greater,  for 
never  was  seed  received  more  kindly,  never  were  the  be- 
ginnings of  life  more  auspicious,  and  never  was  promise 
so  great."  Ah  that  the  promise  should  so  soon  be  a 
disappointment,  and  the  forecast  be  so  soon  belied  !  The 
soil  has  no  depth.  It  is  simply  a  thin  covering  spread 
over  the  rock.  It  offers  no  room  for  growth.  The 
life  it  nourishes  can  be  nothing  more  than  an  ephemeral 
life,  which  owns  but  a  to-day,  whose  "  to-morrow  "  will 
be  in  the  oven  of  a  burning  heat.  The  growth  is  entirely 
superficial,  for  its  roots  come  directly  to  the  hard, 
impenetrable  rock,  which,  yielding  no  support,  but  cut- 
ting off  all  supplies  from  the  unseen  reservoirs  beneath, 
turns  back  the  incipient  life  all  starved  and  shrunken. 
The  result  is  a  sudden  withering  and  decay.  A  found- 
ling, left,  not  by  some  iron  gate  which  the  touch  of 
mercy  might  open,  but  by  a  dead  wall  of  cold,  unrespon- 
sive stone,  the  plant  throws  up  its  arms  into  the  air, 
in  its  vain  struggle  for  life,  and  then  wilts  and  droops, 
lying  at  last,  a  dead  and  shrivelled  thing,  on  the  dry 
bosom  of  the  earth  which  had  given  it  its  untimely  birth. 
Such,  says  Jesus,  are  many  who  hear  the  word. 
Unlike  those  by  the  way-side,  these  do  not  reject  it. 


232  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

They  listen,  bending  toward  that  word  with  attentive 
ears  and  eager  hearts.  Nay,  they  receive  it  with  joy ; 
it  strikes  upon  their  soul  with  the  music  of  a  new 
evangel.  But  the  work  is  not  thorough ;  it  is  super- 
ficial, external.  They  "have  no  root"  in  a  deep  and 
settled  conviction,  only  a  green  blade  of  profession 
and  of  mock  promise,  and  when  the  testing-time  comes, 
as  it  comes  to  all,  "  the  time  of  temptation/'  they  fall 
away,  or  they  "  stand  off,"  as  the  verb  might  be  literally 
rendered. 

In  this  second  class  we  must  place  a  large  proportion 
of  those  who  heard  and  who  followed  Jesus.  There 
was  something  attractive  about  His  manner  and  about 
His  message.  Again  and  again  we  read  how  they 
"pressed  upon  Him  "  to  hear  His  words,  the  multitude 
hanging  on  His  lips  as  the  bees  will  cluster  upon  a 
honeyed  leaf.  Thousands  upon  thousands  thus  came 
within  the  spell  of  His  voice,  now  wondering  at  His 
gracious  words,  and  now  stunned  with  astonishment, 
as  they  marked  the  authority  with  which  He  spoke, 
the  compressed  thunder  that  was  in  His  tones.  But 
in  how  many  cases  are  we  forced  to  admit  the  interest 
to  be  but  momentary  !  It  was  with  many — shall  we 
say  with  most  ? — merely  a  passing  excitement,  the 
effervescence  of  personal  contact.  The  words  of  Jesus 
came  "  as  a  very  lovely  song  of  one  that  hath  a  pleasant 
voice,"  and  for  the  moment  the  hearts  of  the  multitudes 
were  set  vibrating  in  responsive  harmonies.  But  the 
music  ceased  when  the  Singer  was  absent.  The  impres- 
sions were  not  permanent,  and  even  the  emotions 
had  soon  passed  away,  almost  from  memory.  St.  John 
speaks  of  one  sifting  in  Galilee  when  "many  of  His 
disciples  went  back,  and  walked  no  more  with  Him " 
(vi.  66),  showing   that  with  them  at  least  it  was  an 


viii.  i-i8.]       THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  SOWER.  233 

attach-ment  rather  than  an  attachment  that  bound  them 
to  Himself.  The  bond  of  union  was  the  hope  of  some 
personal  gain,  rather  than  the  bond  of  a  pure  and  deep 
affection.  And  so  directly  He  speaks  of  His  approach- 
ing death,  of  His  "  flesh  and  blood  "  which  He  shall 
give  them  to  eat  and  to  drink,  like  an  icy  breath  from 
the  north,  those  words  chill  their  devotion,  turning  their 
zeal  and  ardour  into  a  cold  indifference,  if  not  into  an 
open  hostility.  And  this  same  winnowing  of  Galilee 
is  repeated  in  Judcea.  We  read  of  multitudes  who 
escorted  Jesus  down  the  Mount  of  Olives,  strewing  His 
path  with  garments,  giving  Him  a  royal  welcome  to  the 
"city  of  the  Great  King."  But  how  soon  a  change 
11  came  o'er  the  spirit  of  their  dream " !  how  soon 
the  hosannahs  died  away  !  As  a  hawk  in  the  sky  will 
still  in  a  moment  the  warbling  of  the  birds,  i.?  the 
uplifted  cross  threw  its  cold  shadow  upon  their  hearts, 
drowning  the  brief  hosannahs  in  a  strange  silence. 
The  cross  was  the  fan  in  the  Master's  hand,  with 
which  He  "  throughly  purged  His  floor,"  separating  the 
true  from  the  false.  It  blew  away  into  the  deep  Valley 
of  Oblivion  the  chaff,  the  dead  superficialities,  the  barren 
yawns,  leaving  as  the  residuum  of  the  sifted  multitudes 
a  mere  handful  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  names. 

These  pro  tern,  believers  are  indigenous  to  every  soil. 
There  never  is  a  great  movement  afloat — philanthropic, 
political  or  spiritual — but  numberless  smaller  craft  are 
lifted  up  on  its  swell.  For  a  moment  they  seem  instinct 
with  life,  but  having  no  propelling  power  in  themselves, 
they  drop  behind,  soon  to  be  embedded  in  the  mire. 
And  especially  is  this  true  in  the  region  of  spiritual 
dynamics.  In  all  so-called  "  revivals  "  of  religion,  when 
the  Church  rejoices  in  a  deepened  and  quickened  life, 
when  a  cooling  zeal  has  been  rewarmed  at  the  heavenly 


234  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

fires,  and  converts  are  multiplied,  in  the  accessions 
which  follow  almost  invariably  will  be  found  a  propor- 
tion of  what  we  may  call  "  casuals."  We  cannot  say 
they  are  counterfeits,  for  the  work,  as  far  as  it  goes, 
seems  real,  and  the  change,  both  in  their  thought  and 
life,  is  clearly  marked.  But  they  are  unstable  souls, 
prone  to  drifting,  their  direction  given  in  the  main  by 
the  set  of  the  current  in  which  they  happen  to  be.  And 
so  when  they  reach  the  point — which  all  must  reach 
sooner  or  later — where  two  seas  meet,  the  cross  current 
of  enticement  and  temptation  bears  hard  upon  them,  and 
they  make  shipwreck  of  faith.  Others,  again,  are  led 
by  impulse.  Religion  with  them  is  mainly  a  matter  of 
feeling.  Overlooking  the  fact  that  the  emotions  are 
easily  stirred,  that  they  respond  to  the  passing  breath 
just  as  the  sea  ripples  to  the  breeze,  they  substitute 
emotion  for  conviction,  feeling  for  faith.  But  these  have 
no  foundation,  no  root,  no  independent  life,  and  when 
the  excitements  on  which  they  feed  are  withdrawn, 
when  the  emotion  subsides,  the  high  tide  of  fervour 
falling  back  to  its  mean  sea-level,  they  lose  heart  and 
hope.  They  are  even  ready  to  pity  themselves  as  the 
objects  of  an  illusion.  But  the  illusion  was  one  of  their 
own  making.  They  set  the  pleasant  before  the  right, 
delight  before  duty,  comfort  before  Christ,  and  instead 
of  finding  their  heaven  in  doing  the  w7ill  of  God,  no 
matter  what  the  emotions,  they  sought  their  heaven  in 
their  own  personal  happiness,  and  so  they  missed  both. 
11  They  endure  for  a  while."  And  of  how  many  are 
these  words  true  !  Verily  we  must  not  count  our  fruits 
from  the  blossoms  of  spring,  nor  must  we  reckon  our 
harvest  in  that  easy,  hopeful  way  of  multiplying  each 
seed,  or  even  each  blade,  by  the  hundredfold,  for  the 
blade  may  be  only  a  short-lived  blade  and  nothing  more. 


viii.  1-18.]       THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  SOWER.  235 

"And  other  fell  amidst  the  thorns ;  and  the  thorns 
grew  with  it,  and  choked  it."  Here  is  a  third  quality 
of  soil  in  the  ascending  series.  In  the  first,  the  trampled 
path,  life  was  not  possible ;  the  seed  could  find  not  the 
least  response.  In  the  second  there  was  life.  The 
thinly  sprinkled  soil  gave  the  seed  a  home,  a  rooting  ; 
but  lacking  depth  of  earth  and  the  necessary  moisture, 
the  life  was  precarious,  ephemeral.  It  died  away  in  the 
blade,  and  never  reached  its  fruitage.  Now,  however, 
we  have  a  deeper,  richer  soil,  with  an  abundance  of 
vitality,  one  capable  of  sustaining  an  exuberant  life. 
But  it  is  not  clean  ;  it  is  already  thickly  sown  with 
thorns,  and  the  two  growths  running  up  side  by  side, 
the  hardier  gets  the  master}'.  And  though  the  corn- 
life  struggles  up  into  the  ear,  bearing  a  sort  of  fruit,  it 
is  a  grain  that  is  dwarfed  and  shrivelled,  a  mere  husk 
and  shell,  which  no  leaven  can  transmute  into  bread. 
It  brings  forth  fruit,  as  the  exposition  of  the  parable 
indicates,  but  it  has  not  strength  to  complete  its  task ; 
it  dees  not  ripen  it,  bringing  the  fruit  "to  perfection." 

Such,  says  Jesus,  is  another  and  a  large  class  of 
hearers.  They  are  naturally  capable  of  doing  great 
things.  Possessing  strong  wills,  and  a  large  amount 
of  energy,  they  are  just  the  lives  to  be  fruitful,  impres- 
sing themselves  upon  others,  and  so  throwing  their 
manifold  influence  down  into  the  future.  But  they  do 
not,  and  for  the  simple  reason  that  they  do  not  give  to 
the  word  a  whole  heart.  Their  attentions  and  energies 
are  divided.  Instead  of  seeking  "  first  the  kingdom  of 
God,"  making  that  the  supreme  quest  of  life,  it  is  with 
them  but  one  of  many  things  to  be  desired  and  sought. 
Chief  among  the  hindrances  to  a  perfected  growth  and 
fruitfulness,  Jesus  mentions  three;  namely,  cares,  riches, 
and  pleasures.     By  the  "  cares  of  life  "  we  must  under- 


236  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

stand — interpreting  the  word  by  its  related  word  in 
Matthew  vi.  34 — the  anxieties  of  life.  It  is  the  anxious 
thought,  mainly  about  the  "  to-morrow,"  which  presses 
upon  the  heart  as  a  sore  and  constant  burden.  It  is 
the  fearfulness  and  unrest  of  soul  which  gloom  the 
spirit  and  shroud  the  life,  making  the  Divine  peace 
itself  a  fret  and  worry.  And  how  many  Christians  find 
this  to  be  the  normal  experience  !  They  love  God,  they 
seek  to  serve  Him  ;  but  they  are  weighted  and  weary. 
Instead  of  having  the  hopeful,  buoyant  spirit  which 
rises  to  the  crest  of  passing  waves,  it  is  a  heart  de- 
pressed and  sad,  living  in  the  deeps.  And  so  the 
brightness  of  their  life  is  dimmed  ;  they  walk  not  "  in 
the  light,  as  He  is  in  the  light,"  but  beneath  a  sky  fre- 
quently overcast,  their  days  bringing  only  "a  little 
glooming  light,  much  like  a  shade."  And  so  their 
spiritual  life  is  stunted,  their  usefulness  impaired.  In- 
stead of  having  a  heart  "  at  leisure  from  itself,"  they 
are  engrossed  with  their  own  unsatisfactory  experiences. 
Instead  of  looking  upwards  to  the  heavens  which  are 
their  own,  or  outwards  upon  the  crying  needs  of  earth, 
they  look  inward  with  frequent  and  morbid  introspec- 
tion ;  and  instead  of  lending  a  hand  to  the  fallen,  thai 
a  brotherly  touch  might  help  them  to  rise,  their  hands 
find  full  employment  in  steadying  the  world,  or  worlds, 
of  care  which,  Atlas-like,  they  are  doomed  to  carry. 
Self-doomed,  we  should  have  said ;  for  the  Divine  Voice 
invites  us  to  cast  "  all  our  anxiety  upon  Him,"  assuring 
us  that  He  careth  for  us,  an  assurance  and  an  invitation 
which  make  our  anxieties,  the  fret  and  fever  of  life, 
altogether  superfluous. 

Exactly  the  same  effect  of  making  the  spiritual  life 
incomplete,  and  so  unproductive,  is  caused  by  riches 
and  pleasures,  or,  as  we  might  render  the  expression, 


viii.  i-iS]       THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  SOWER.  737 

by  the  pursuit  after  riches  or  after  pleasure.  Not  that 
the  Scriptures  condemn  wealth  in  itself.  It  is,  perse,  of 
a  neutral  character,  whether  a  blessing  or  a  bane  de- 
pends on  how  it  is  earned  and  how  it  is  held.  Nor  do 
the  Scriptures  condemn  legitimate  modes  and  measures 
of  business ;  they  condemn  waste  and  indolence,  but 
they  commend  industry,  diligence,  thrift.  But  the  evil 
is  in  making  wealth  the  chief  aim  of  life.  It  is  decep- 
tive, promising  satisfaction  which  it  never  gives,  creating 
a  thirst  which  it  is  powerless  to  slake,  until  the  desire, 
ever  more  greedy  and  clamorous,  grows  into  a  "  love 
of  money,"  a  pure  worship  of  Mammon.  Religion  and 
business  may  well  go  together,  for  God  has  joined  them 
in  one.  Each  keeping  its  proper  place,  religion  first 
and  most,  and  business  a  far-off  second,  together  they 
are  the  centrifugal  and  centripetal  forces  that  keep  the 
life  revolving  steadily  around  its  Divine  centre.  But 
let  the  positions  be  reversed  ;  let  business  be  the  first, 
chief  thought,  let  religion  sink  down  to  some  second 
or  third  place,  and  the  life  swings  farther  and  farther 
from  its  pivotal  centre,  into  wildernesses  of  dearth 
and  cold.  To  give  due  thought  to  earthly  things 
is  right ;  nay,  we  may  give  all  diligence  to  make  our 
earthly,  as  well  as  our  heavenly  calling  sure;  but  when 
business  gets  imperious  in  its  demands,  swallowing  up 
all  our  thought  and  energy,  leaving  no  time  for  spiritual 
exercises  or  for  personal  service  for  Christ,  then  the 
religious  life  declines.  Crowded  back  into  the  chance 
corners,  with  nothing  left  it  but  the  brief  interstices  of 
a  busy  life,  religion  can  do  little  more  than  maintain 
a  profession ;  its  helpfulness  is,  in  the  main,  remitted 
to  the  past,  and  its  fruitfulness  is  postponed  to  that 
uncertain  nowhere  of  the  Greek  calends. 

The  same  is  true  with  regard  to  the  pleasures  of  life. 


238  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

The  word  u  pleasure "  is  a  somewhat  infrequent  word 
in  the  New  Testament,  and  generally  it  is  used  of  the 
lower,  sensual  pleasures.  We  are  not  obliged,  how- 
ever, to  give  the  word  its  lowest  meaning ;  indeed,  the 
analog}7  of  the  parable  would  scarcely  allow  such  an 
interpretation.  Sinful  pleasure  would  net  check  growth  ; 
it  would  simply  prevent  it,  making  a  spiritual  life 
impossible.  We  must  therefore  interpret  the  "  plea- 
sures" which  retard  the  upward  growth,  and  render  it 
infertile,  as  the  lawful  pleasures  of  life,  such  as  the 
delights  of  the  eye  and  ear,  the  gratification  of  the 
tastes,  the  enjoyments  of  domestic  or  social  life.  Per- 
fectly innocent  and  pure  in  themselves,  purposely 
designed  for  our  enjoyment,  as  St.  Paul  plainly  inti- 
mates (1  Tim.  vi.  17),  they  are  pleasures  which  wre  have 
no  right  to  treat  with  the  stoic's  disdain,  nor  with  the 
ascetic's  aversion.  But  the  snare  is  in  permitting  these 
desires  to  step  out  of  their  proper  place,  in  allowing 
them  to  have  a  controlling  influence.  As  servants  their 
ministry  is  helpful  and  benign ;  but  if  we  make  them 
"lords,"  then,  like  "the  ill  uses  of  a  life,"  we  find  it 
difficult  to  put  them  down ;  they  rather  put  us  down, 
making  us  their  thrall.  To  please  God  should  be  the 
one  absorbing  pursuit  and  passion  of  life,  and  wholly 
bent  on  this,  if  other  pure  enjoyments  come  in  our  way 
we  may  receive  them  thankfully.  But  if  we  make  our 
personal  gratification  the  aim,  if  our  thoughts  and  plans 
are  set  on  this  rather  than  upon  the  pleasing  of  God, 
then  our  spiritual  life  is  enfeebled  and  stifled,  and  the 
fruit  we  should  bear  shrivels  up  into  chaff.  Then  we 
become  selfish  and  self-willed,  and  the  pure  pleasures 
of  life,  which  like  Vestal  Virgins  minister  within  the 
temple  of  God,  leading  us  ever  to  Him,  turn  round 
to   burn  perpetual   incense   before   our  enlarged   and 


viii.  1-18.]       THE  PARABLE   OF   THE  SOIVER.  239 

exalted  Self.  He  who  stops  to  confer  with  flesh 
and  blood,  who  is  ever  consulting  his  own  likes  and 
leanings,  can  never  be  an  apost'e  to  others. 

"And  other  fell  into  the  good  ground,  and  grew, 
and  brought  forth  fruit  a  hundredfold."  Here  is  the 
highest  quality  of  soil.  Not  hard,  like  the  trampled 
path,  nor  shallow,  like  the  covering  of  the  rock,  not 
preoccupied  with  the  roots  of  other  growths,  this  is 
mellow,  deep,  clean,  and  rich.  The  seed  falls,  not  "  by," 
or  "in,"  or  "among,"  but  "into"  it,  while  seed  and 
soil  together  grow  up  in  an  affluence  of  life,  and  passing 
through  the  blade-age  and  the  earing,  it  ripens  into  a 
harvest  of  a  hundredfold.  Such,  says  Jesus,  are  they 
who,  in  an  honest  and  good  heart,  having  heard  the 
word,  hold  it  fast,  and  bring  forth  fruit  with  patience. 
Here,  then,  we  reach  the  germ  of  the  parable,  the  secret 
of  fruitfulness,  The  one  difference  between  the  saint 
and  the  sinner,  between  the  hundredfold  hearer  and 
him  whose  life  is  spent  in  throwing  out  promises  ot 
a  harvest  which  never  ripens,  is  their  different  attitude 
towards  the  word  of  God.  In  the  one  case  that  word 
is  rejected  altogether,  or  it  is  a  concept  of  the  mind 
alone,  an  aurora  of  the  Arctic  night,  distant  and  cold, 
which  some  mistake  for  the  dawn  of  a  new  day.  In 
the  other  the  word  passes  through  the  mind  into  the 
deepest  heart ;  it  conquers  and  rules  the  whole  being ; 
it  becomes  a  part  of  one's  very  self,  the  soul  of  the  soul. 
"  Thy  word  have  I  hid  in  my  heart,"  said  the  Psalmist, 
and  he  who  puts  the  Divine  word  there,  back  of  all 
earthly  and  selfish  voices,  letting  that  Divine  Voice  fill 
up  that  most  sacred  temple  of  the  heart,  will  make  his 
outer  life  both  beautiful  and  fruitful.  He  will  walk  the 
earth  as  one  of  God's  seers,  ever  beholding  Him  who 
is  invisible,  speaking  by  life  or  lips  in  heavenly  tones, 


240  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

and  by  his  own  steadfast,  upward  gaze  lifting  the 
hearts  and  thoughts  of  men  "  above  the  world's  uncer- 
tain haze."  Such  is  the  Divine  law  of  life ;  the  measure 
of  our  faith  is  the  measure  of  our  fruitfulness.  If  we 
but  half  believe  in  the  promises  of  God  or  in  the 
eternal  realities,  then  the  sinews  of  our  soul  are 
houghed,  and  there  comes  over  us  the  sad  paralysis 
of  doubt.  How  can  we  bring  forth  fruit  except  we 
abide  in  Him  ?  and  how  can  we  abide  in  Him  but  by 
letting  His  words  abide  in  us  ?  But  having  His  words 
abiding  in  us,  then  His  peace,  His  joy,  His  life  are  ours, 
and  we,  who  without  Him  are  poor,  dead  things,  now 
become  strong  in  His  infinite  strength,  and  fruitful 
with  a  Divine  fruitfulness ;  and  to  our  lives,  which 
were  all  barren  and  dead,  will  men  come  for  the  words 
that  lt  help  and  heal,"  while  the  Master  Himself  gathers 
from  them  His  thirty,  sixty,  or  hundredfold,  the  fruitage 
of  a  whole-hearted,  patient  faith. 

Let  us  take  heed,  therefore,  how  we  hear,  for  on  the 
character  of  the  hearing  depends  the  character  of  the 
life.  Nor  is  the  truth  given  us  for  ourselves  alone ;  it 
is  given  that  it  may  become  incarnate  in  us,  so  that 
others  may  see  and  feel  the  truth  that  is  in  us,  even  as 
men  cannot  help  seeing  the  light  which  is  manifest. 

And  so  the  parable  closes  with  the  account  of  the 
visit  of  His  mother  and  brethren,  who  came,  as  St. 
Matthew  informs  us,  "  to  take  Him  home ; "  and  when 
the  message  was  passed  on  to  Him  that  His  mother 
and  His  brethren  wished  to  see  Him,  this  was  His 
remarkable  answer,  claiming  relationship  with  all 
whose  hearts  vibrate  to  the  same  "  word : "  "  My 
mother  and  My  brethren  are  those  which  hear  the 
word  of  God,  and  do  it."  It  is  the  secret  of  the 
Divine  life  on  earth ;  they  hear,  and  they  do. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD. 

IN  considering  the  words  of  Jesus,  if  we  may  not  be 
able  to  measure  their  depth  or  to  scale  their  height, 
we  can  with  absolute  certainty  discover  their  drift,  and 
see  in  what  direction  they  move,  and  we  shall  find 
that  their  orbit  is  an  ellipse.  Moving  around  the  two 
centres,  sin  and  salvation,  they  describe  what  is  not  a 
geometric  figure,  but  a  glorious  reality,  u  the  kingdom 
of  God."  It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  expression  was  one 
of  the  current  phrases  of  the  times,  a  golden  casket, 
holding  within  it  the  dream  of  a  restored  Hebraism ; 
for  we  find,  without  any  collusion  or  rehearsal  of  parts, 
the  Baptist  making  use  of  the  identical  words  in  his 
inaugural  address,  while  it  is  certain  the  disciples 
themselves  so  misunderstood  the  thought  of  their 
Master  as  to  refer  His  "kingdom"  to  that  narrow 
realm  of  Hebrew  sympathies  and  hopes.  Nor  did  they 
see  their  error  until,  in  the  light  of  Pentecostal  flames, 
their  own  dream  disappeared,  and  the  new  kingdom, 
opening  out  like  a  receding  sky,  embraced  a  world 
within  its  folds.  That  Jesus  adopted  the  phrase,  liable 
to  misconstruction  as  it  was,  and  that  He  used  it  so 
repeatedly,  making  it  the  centre  of  so  many  parables 
and  discourses,  shows  how  completely  the  kingdom 
of  God  possessed  both  His  mind  and  heart.     Indeea, 

16 


24a  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

so  accustomed  were  His  thoughts  and  words  to  flow 
in  this  direction  that  even  the  Valley  of  Death,  "  lying 
darkly  between  "  His  two  lives,  could  not  alter  their 
course,  or  turn  His  thoughts  out  of  their  familiar 
channel ;  and  as  we  find  the  Christ  back  of  the  cross 
and  tomb,  amid  the  resurrection  glories,  we  hear  Him 
speaking  still  of  "  the  things  pertaining  to  the  kingdom 
of  God." 

It  will  be  observed  that  Jesus  uses  the  two  expres- 
sions "  the  kingdom  of  God  "  and  "  the  kingdom  of 
heaven"  interchangeably.  But  in  what  sense  is  it 
the  "  kingdom  of  heaven  "  ?  Does  it  mean  that  the 
celestial  realm  will  so  far  extend  its  bounds  as  to 
embrace  our  outlying  and  low-lying  world  ?  Not  exactly* 
for  the  conditions  of  the  two  realms  are  so  diverse. 
The  one  is  the  perfected,  the  visible  kingdom,  where 
the  throne  is  set,  and  the  King  Himself  is  manifest, 
its  citizens,  angels,  heavenly  intelligences,  and  saints 
now  freed  from  the  cumbering  clay  of  mortality,  and 
for  ever  safe  from  the  solicitations  of  evil.  This  New 
Jerusalem  does  not  come  down  to  earth,  except  in  the 
vision  of  the  seer,  as  it  were  in  a  shadow.  And  yet 
the  two  kingdoms  are  in  close  correspondence,  after  all ; 
for  what  is  the  kingdom  of  God  in  heaven  but  His 
eternal  rule  over  the  spirits  of  the  redeemed  and  of 
the  unredeemed  ?  what  are  the  harmonies  of  heaven 
but  the  harmonies  of  surrendered  wills,  as,  without 
any  hesitation  or  discord,  they  strike  in  with  the  Divine 
Will  in  absolute  precision  ?  To  this  extent,  then,  at 
least,  heaven  may  project  itself  upon  earth  ;  the  spirits 
of  men  not  yet  made  perfect  may  be  in  subjection  to 
the  Supreme  Spirit ;  the  separate  wills  of  a  redeemed 
humanity,  striking  in  with  the  Divine  Will,  may  swell 
the  heavenly  harmonies  with  their  earthly  music. 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD.  243 

And  so  Jesus  speaks  of  this  kingdom  as  being 
"  within  you."  As  if  He  said,  u  You  are  looking  in 
the  wrong  direction.  You  expect  the  kingdom  of  God 
to  be  set  up  around  you,  with  its  visible  symbols  of  flags 
and  coins,  on  which  is  the  image  of  some  new  Csesar. 
You  are  mistaken.  The  kingdom,  like  its  King,  is 
unseen ;  it  seeks,  not  countries,  but  consciences  ;  its 
realm  is  in  the  heart,  in  the  great  interior  of  the  soul." 
And  is  not  this  the  reason  why  it  is  called,  with  such 
emphatic  repetition,  "the  kingdom,"  as  if  it  were,  if 
not  the  only,  at  any  rate  the  highest  kingdom  of  God 
on  earth  ?  We  speak  of  a  kingdom  of  Nature,  and 
who  will  know  its  secrets  as  He  who  was  both  Nature's 
child  and  Nature's  Lord  ?  And  how  far-reaching  a 
realm  is  that !  from  the  motes  that  swim  in  the  air  to 
the  most  distant  stars,  which  themselves  are  but  the 
gateway  to  the  unseen  Beyond !  What  forces  are 
here,  forces  of  chemical  affinities  and  repulsions,  of 
gravitation  and  of  life  !  What  successions  and  trans- 
formations can  Nature  show !  what  infinite  varieties 
of  substance,  form,  and  colour !  what  a  realm  of 
harmony  and  peace,  with  no  irruptions  of  discordant 
elements  1  Surely  one  would  think,  if  God  has  a 
kingdom  upon  earth,  this  kingdom  of  Nature  is  it. 
But  no  ;  Jesus  does  not  often  refer  to  that,  except  as 
He  makes  Nature  speak  in  His  parables,  or  as  He 
uses  the  sparrows,  the  grass,  and  the  lilies  as  so  many 
lenses  through  which  our  weak  human  vision  may  see 
God.  The  kingdom  of  God  on  earth  is  as  much 
higher  than  the  kingdom  of  Nature  as  spirit  is  above 
matter,  as  love  is  more  and  greater  than  power. 

We  said  just  now  how  completely  the  thought  of 
u  the  kingdom  "  possessed  the  mind  and  heart  of  Jesus. 
We  might  go  one  step  farther,  and  say  how  completely 


244  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE, 

Jesus  identified  Himself  with  that  kingdom.  He  puts 
Himself  in  its  pivotal  centre,  with  all  possible  natural- 
ness, and  with  an  ease  that  assumption  cannot  feign 
He  gathers  up  its  royalties  and  draws  them  around 
His  own  Person.  He  speaks  of  it  as  "My  kingdom;" 
and  this,  not  alone  in  familiar  discourse  with  His 
disciples,  but  when  face  to  face  with  the  representative 
of  earth's  greatest  power.  Nor  is  the  personal  pronoun 
some  chance  word,  used  in  a  far-off,  accommodated 
sense  ;  it  is  the  crucial  word  of  the  sentence,  under- 
scored and  emphasized  by  a  threefold  repetition  ;  it  is 
the  word  He  will  not  strike  out,  nor  recall,  even  to 
save  Himself  from  the  cross.  He  never  speaks  of  the 
kingdom  but  even  His  enemies  acknowledge  the 
"  authority "  that  rings  in  His  tones,  the  authority 
of  conscious  power,  as  well  as  of  perfect  knowledge. 
When  His  ministry  is  drawing  to  a  close  He  says  to 
Peter,  "  I  will  give  unto  thee  the  keys  of  the  kingdom 
of  heaven;"  which  language  may  be  understood  as 
the  official  designation  of  the  Apostle  Peter  to  a  position 
of  pre-eminence  in  the  Church,  as  its  first  leader.  But 
whatever  it  may  mean,  it  shows  that  the  keys  of  the 
kingdom  are  His ;  He  can  bestow  them  on  whom  He 
will.  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  not  a  realm  in  which 
authority  and  honours  move  upwards  from  below,  the 
blossoming  of  "  the  people's  will ; "  it  is  an  absolute 
monarchy,  an  autocracy,  and  Jesus  Himself  is  here 
King  supreme,  His  will  swaying  the  lesser  wills  of 
men,  and  rearranging  their  positions,  as  the  angel  had 
foretold :  "  He  shall  reign  over  the  house  of  David 
for  ever,  and  of  His  kingdom  there  shall  be  no  end." 
Given  Him  of  the  Father  it  is  (xxii.  29 ;  i.  32),  but  the 
kingdom  is  His,  not  either  as  a  metaphor,  but  really, 
absolutely,  inalienably;  nor  is  there  admittance  within 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD.  245 

that  kingdom  but  by  Him  who  is  the  Way,  as  He  is 
the  Life.  We  enter  into  the  kingdom,  or  the  king- 
dom enters  into  us,  as  we  find,  and  then  crown  the 
King,  as  we  sanctify  in  our  hearts  "  Christ  as  Lord  " 
(1  Pet.  iii.  15). 

This  brings  us  to  the  question  of  citizenship,  the 
conditions  and  demands  of  the  kingdom  ;  and  here  we 
see  how  far  this  new  dynasty  is  removed  from  the 
kingdoms  of  this  world.  They  deal  with  mankind  in 
groups;  they  look  at  birth,  not  character;  and  their 
bounds  are  well  defined  by  rivers,  mountains,  seas,  or 
by  accurately  surveyed  lines.  The  kingdom  of  heaven, 
on  the  other  hand,  dispenses  with  all  space-limits,  all 
physical  configurations,  and  regards  mankind  as  one 
group,  a  unity,  a  lapsed  but  a  redeemed  world.  But 
while  opening  its  gates  and  offering  its  privileges  to  all 
alike,  irrespective  of  class  or  circumstance,  it  is  most 
eclective  in  its  requirements,  and  most  rigid  in  the 
application  of  its  test,  its  one  test  of  character.  Indeed, 
the  laws  of  the  heavenly  kingdom  are  a  complete 
reversal  of  the  lines  of  worldly  policy.  Take,  for 
instance,  the  two  estimates  of  wealth,  and  see  how 
different  the  position  it  occupies  in  the  two  societies. 
The  world  makes  wealth  its  summiim  bonum;  or  if  not 
exactly  in  itself  the  highest  good,  in  commercial  values 
it  is  equivalent  to  the  highest  good,  which  is  position. 
Gold  is  all-powerful,  the  goal  of  man's  vain  ambitions, 
the  panacea  of  earthly  ill.  Men  chase  it  in  hot,  feverish 
haste,  trampling  upon  each  other  in  the  mad  scramble, 
and  worshipping  it  in  a  blind  idolatry.  But  where  is 
wealth  in  the  new  kingdom  ?  The  world's  first  be- 
comes the  last.  It  has  no  purchasing-power  here ;  its 
golden  key  cannot  open  the  least  of  these  heavenly 
gates.     Jesus  sets  it  back,  far  back,  in  His  estimate  of 


246  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

the  good.  He  speaks  of  it  as  if  it  were  an  encumbrance, 
a  dead  weight,  that  must  be  lifted,  and  that  handicaps 
the  heavenly  athlete.  "  How  hardly,"  said  Jesus,  when 
the  rich  ruler  turned  away  "very  sorrowful,"  "shall 
they  that  have  riches  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God !" 
(xviii.  24) ;  and  then,  by  way  of  illustration,  He  shows 
us  the  picture  of  the  camel  passing  through  the  so- 
called  "needle's  eye"  of  an  Eastern  door.  He  does 
not  say  that  such  a  thing  is  impossible,  for  the  camel 
could  pass  through  the  "  needle's  eye,"  but  it  must  first 
kneel  down  and  be  stripped  of  all  its  baggage,  before  it 
can  pass  the  narrow  door,  within  the  larger,  but  now 
closed  gate.  Wealth  may  have  its  uses,  and  noble  uses 
too,  within  the  kingdom — for  it  is  somewhat  remark- 
able how  the  faith  of  the  two  rich  disciples  shone  out 
the  brightest,  when  the  faith  of  the  rest  suffered  a 
temporary  eclipse  from  the  passing  cross — but  he  who 
possesses  it  must  be  as  if  he  possessed  it  not.  He 
must  not  regard  it  as  his  own,  but  as  talents  given  him 
in  trust  by  his  Lord,  their  image  and  superscription 
being  that  of  the  Invisible  King. 

Again,  Jesus  sets  down  vacillation,  hesitancy,  as  a 
disqualification  for  citizenship  in  His  kingdom.  At 
the  close  of  His  Galilean  ministry  our  Evangelist  intro- 
duces us  to  a  group  of  embryo  disciples.  The  first  of 
the  three  says,  "  Lord,  I  will  follow  Thee  whithersoever 
Thou  goest"  (ix.  57).  Bold  words  they  were,  and 
doubtless  well  meant,  but  it  was  the  language  of  a 
passing  impulse,  rather  than  of  a  settled  conviction; 
it  was  the  coruscation  of  a  glowing,  ardent  tempera- 
ment. He  had  not  counted  the  cost.  The  large  word 
"whithersoever"  might,  indeed,  easily  be  spoken,  but  it 
held  within  it  a  Gethsemane  and  a  Calvary,  paths  of 
sorrow,  shame,  and  death  he  was  not  prepared  to  face. 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  COD.  247 

And  so  Jesus  neither  welcomed  nor  dismissed  him, 
but  opening  out  one  part  of  his  "whithersoever,"  He 
gave  it  back  to  him  in  the  words,  "The  foxes  have 
holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  heaven  have  nests ;  but  the 
Son  of  man  hath  not  where  to  lay  His  head."  The 
second  responds  to  the  "  Follow  Me  "  of  Christ  with  the 
request  that  he  might  be  allowed  first  to  go  and  bury 
his  father.  It  was  a  most  natural  request,  but  parti- 
cipation in  these  funeral  rites  would  entail  a  ceremonial 
unclean ness  of  seven  days,  by  which  time  Jesus  would 
be  far  away.  Besides,  Jesus  must  teach  him,  and  the 
ages  after  him,  that  His  claims  were  paramount;  that 
when  He  commands  obedience  must  be  instant  and 
absolute,  with  no  interventions,  no  postponement. 
Jesus  replies  to  him  in  that  enigmatical  way  of  His, 
"Leave  the  dead  to  bury  their  own  dead:  but  go  thou 
and  publish  abroad  the  kingdom  of  God ; "  indicating 
that  this  supreme  crisis  of  his  life  is  virtually  a  passing 
from  death  to  life,  a  "  resurrection  from  earth  to  things 
above."  The  last  in  this  group  of  three  volunteers  his 
pledge,  "  I  will  follow  Thee,  Lord ;  but  first  suffer  me 
to  bid  farewell  to  them  that  are  at  my  house"  (ix.  61) ; 
but  to  him  Jesus  replies,  mournfully  and  sorrowfully, 
"  No  man,  having  put  his  hand  to  the  plough,  and  look- 
ing back,  is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God"  (ix.  62). 
Why  does  Jesus  treat  these  two  candidates  so  differ- 
ently ?  They  both  say,  "  I  will  follow  Thee,"  the  one 
in  word,  the  other  by  implication ;  they  both  request  a 
little  time  for  what  they  regard  a  filial  duty  ;  why,  then, 
be  treated  so  differently,  the  one  thrust  forward  to  a 
still  higher  service,  commissioned  to  preach  the  king- 
dom, and  afterwards,  if  we  may  accept  the  tradition 
that  he  was  Philip  the  Evangelist,  passing  up  into  the 
diaconate ;  the  other,  unwelcomed  and  uncommissioned, 


248  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

but  disapproved  as  "  not  fit  for  the  kingdom  n  ?  Why 
there  should  be  this  wide  divergence  between  the  two 
lives  we  cannot  see,  either  from  their  manner  or  their 
words.  It  must  have  been  a  difference  in  the  moral 
attitude  of  the  two  men,  and  which  He  who  heard 
thoughts  and  read  motives  detected  at  once.  In  the 
case  of  the  former  there  was  the  fixed,  determined 
resolve,  which  the  bier  of  a  dead  father  might  hold 
back  a  little,  but  which  it  could  not  break  or  bend. 
Put  Jesus  saw  in  the  other  a  double-minded  soul,  whose 
feet  and  heart  moved  in  diverse,  opposite  ways,  who 
gave,  not  his  whole,  but  a  very  partial,  self  to  his  work  ; 
and  this  halting,  wavering  one  He  dismissed  with  the 
words  of  forecasted  doom,  "  Not  fit  for  the  kingdom 
of  God." 

It  is  a  hard  saying,  with  a  seeming  severity  about  it ; 
but  is  it  not  a  truth  universal  and  eternal  ?  Are  any 
kingdoms,  either  of  knowledge  or  power,  won  and  held 
by  the  irresolute  and  wavering?  Like  the  stricken 
men  of  Sodom,  they  weary  themselves  to  find  the  door 
of  the  kingdom ;  or  if  they  do  see  the  Beautiful  Gates 
of  a  better  life,  they  sit  with  the  lame  man,  outside,  or 
they  linger  on  the  steps,  hearing  the  music  indeed,  but 
hearing  it  from  afar.  It  is  a  truth  of  both  dispensations, 
written  in  all  the  books;  the  Reubens  who  are  "un- 
stable as  water "  can  never  excel ;  the  elder  born,  in 
the  accident  of  years,  they  may  be,  but  the  birthright 
passes  by  them,  to  be  inherited  and  enjoyed  by  others. 

But  if  the  gates  of  the  kingdom  are  irrevocably 
closed  against  the  half-hearted,  the  self-indulgent,  and 
the  proud,  there  is  a  sesame  to  which  they  open  gladly. 
u  Blessed  are  ye  poor,"  so  reads  the  first  and  great 
Beatitude  :  "  for  yours  is  the  kingdom  of  God  "  (vi.  20) ; 
and  beginning  with  this  present  realization,  Jesus  goes 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD.  249 

on  to  speak  of  the  strange  contrasts  and  inversions  the 
perfected  kingdom  will  show,  when  the  weepers  will 
laugh,  the  hungry  be  full,  and  those  who  are  despised 
and  persecuted  uill  rejoice  in  their  exceeding  great 
reward.  But  who  are  the  "  poor  "  to  whom  the  gates 
of  the  kingdom  are  open  so  soon  and  so  wide  ?  At 
first  sight  it  would  appear  as  if  we  must  give  a  literal 
interpretation  to  the  word,  reading  it  in  a  worldly, 
temporal  sense  ;  but  this  is  not  necessary.  Jesus  was 
now  directly  addressing  His  disciples  (vi.  20),  though, 
doubtless,  His  words  were  intended  to  pass  beyond 
them,  to  those  ever-enlarging  circles  of  humanity  who 
in  the  after-years  should  press  forward  to  hear  Him. 
But  evidently  the  disciples  were  in  no  weeping  mood 
to-day  ;  they  would  be  elated  and  joyful  over  the  recent 
miracles.  Neither  should  we  call  them  "  poor,"  in  the 
worldly  sense  of  that  word,  for  most  of  them  had  been 
called  from  honourable  positions  in  society,  while  some 
had  even  "hired  servants"  to  wait  upon  and  assist 
them.  Indeed,  it  was  not  the  wont  of  Jesus  to  recognize 
the  class  distinctions  Society  was  so  fond  of  drawing 
and  defining.  He  appraised  men,  not  by  their  means, 
but  by  the  manhood  which  was  in  them ;  and  when  He 
found  a  nobility  of  soul — whether  in  the  higher  or  the 
lower  walks  of  life  it  made  no  difference — He  stepped 
forward  to  recognize  and  to  salute  it.  We  must  there- 
fore give  to  these  words  of  Jesus,  as  to  so  many  others, 
the  deeper  meaning,  making  the  "  blessed "  of  this 
Beatitude,  who  are  now  welcomed  to  the  opened  gate 
of  the  kingdom,  the  "  poor  in  spirit,"  as,  indeed, 
St.  Matthew  writes  it. 

What  this  spirit-poverty  is,  Jesus  Himself  explains, 
in  a  brief  but  wonderfully  realistic  parable.  He  draws 
for  us  the  picture  of  two  men  at  their  Temple  devotions. 


250  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

The  one,  a  Pharisee,  stands  erect,  with  head  uplifted, 
as  if  it  were  quite  on  a  level  with  the  heaven  he  was 
addressing,  and  with  supercilious  pride  he  counts  his 
beads  of  rounded  egotisms.  He  calls  it  a  worship  of 
God,  when  it  is  but  a  worship  of  self.  He  inflates  the 
great  "  I,"  and  then  plays  upon  it,  making  it  strike 
sharp  and  loud,  like  the  tom-tom  of  a  heathen  fetish. 
Such  is  the  man  who  fancies  that  he  is  rich  toward 
God,  that  he  has  need  of  nothing,  not  even  of  mercy, 
when  all  the  time  he  is  utterly  blind  and  miserably 
poor.  The  other  is  a  publican,  and  so  presumably 
rich.  But  how  different  his  posture !  With  heart 
broken  and  contrite,  self  with  him  is  a  nothing,  a 
zero ;  nay,  in  his  lowly  estimate  it  had  become  a  minus 
quantity,  less  than  nothing,  deserving  only  rebuke  and 
chastisement.  Disclaiming  any  good,  either  inherent 
or  acquired,  he  puts  the  deep  need  and  hunger  of  his 
soul  into  one  broken  cry,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner  "  (xviii.  13).  Such  are  the  two  characters  Jesus 
portrays  as  standing  by  the  gate  of  the  kingdom,  the 
one  proud  in  spirit,  the  other  "  poor  in  spirit ; "  the 
one  throwing  upon  the  heavens  the  shadow  of  his 
magnified  self,  the  other  shrinking  up  into  the  pauper, 
the  nothing  that  he  was.  But  Jesus  tells  us  that  he 
was  "justified,"  accepted,  rather  than  the  other.  With 
nought  he  could  call  his  own,  save  his  deep  need  and 
his  great  sin,  he  finds  an  opened  gate  and  a  welcome 
within  the  kingdom ;  while  the  proud  in  spirit  is  sent 
empty  away,  or  carrying  back  only  the  tithed  mint  and 
anise,  and  all  the  vain  oblations  Heaven  could  not 
accept. 

"  Blessed  "  indeed  are  such  "  poor ;  n  for  He  giveth 
grace  unto  the  lowly,  wThile  the  proud  He  knoweth  afar 
off.     The  humble,   the  meek,   these   shall  inherit  the 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD.  251 

earth,  ay,  and  the  heavens  too,  and  they  shall  know 
how  true  is  the  paradox,  having  nothing,  yet  possess- 
ing all  things.  The  fruit  of  the  tree  of  life  hangs  low, 
and  he  must  stoop  who  would  gather  it.  He  who 
would  enter  God's  kingdom  must  first  become  "as  a 
little  child,"  knowing  nothing  as  yet,  but  longing  to 
know  even  the  mysteries  of  the  kingdom,  and  having 
nothing  but  the  plea  of  a  great  mercy  and  a  great  need. 
And  are  they  not  "blessed"  who  are  citizens  of  the 
kingdom — with  righteousness,  peace,  and  joy  all  their 
own,  a  peace  which  is  perfect  and  Divine,  and  a  joy 
which  no  man  taketh  from  them  ?  Are  they  not 
blessed,  thrice  blessed,  when  the  bright  shadow  of  the 
Throne  covers  all  their  earthly  life,  making  its  dark 
places  light,  and  weaving  rainbows  out  of  their  very 
tears?  He  who  through  the  strait  gate  of  repent- 
ance passes  within  the  kingdom  finds  it  "  the  kingdom 
of  heaven "  indeed,  his  earthly  years  the  beginnings 
of  the  heavenly  life. 

And  now  we  touch  a  point  Jesus  ever  loved  to 
illustrate  and  emphasize,  the  manner  of  the  kingdom's 
growth,  as  with  ever-widening  frontiers  it  sweeps  out- 
ward in  its  conquest  of  a  world.  It  was  a  beautiful 
dream  of  Hebrew  prophecy  that  in  the  latter  days  the 
kingdom  of  God,  or  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah, 
should  overlap  the  bounds  of  human  empires,  and 
ultimately  cover  the  whole  earth.  Looking  through  her 
kaleidoscope  of  ever-shifting  but  harmonious  figures, 
Prophecy  was  never  weary  of  telling  of  the  Golden 
Age  she  saw  in  the  far  future,  when  the  shadows 
would  lift,  and  a  new  Dawn,  breaking  out  of  Jerusalem, 
would  steal  over  the  world.  Even  the  Gentiles  should 
be  drawn  to  its  light,  and  kings  to  the  brightness  of 
its  rising;  the  seas  should  offer  their  abundance  as 


252  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

a  willing  tribute,  and  the  isles  should  wait  for  and 
welcome  its  laws.  Taking  up  into  itself  the  petty 
strifes  and  jealousies  of  men,  the  discords  of  earth 
should  cease;  humanity  should  again  become  a  unit, 
restored  and  regenerate  fellow-citizens  of  the  new 
kingdom,  the  kingdom  which  should  have  no  end,  no 
boundaries  either  of  space  or  time. 

Such  was  the  dream  of  Prophecy,  the  kingdom  Jesus 
sets  Himself  to  found  and  realize  upon  earth.  But 
how?  Disclaiming  any  rivalry  with  Pilate,  or  with 
his  imperial  master,  Jesus  said,  "My  kingdom  is  not 
of  this  world,"  so  lifting  it  altogether  out  of  the  mould 
in  which  earthly  dynasties  are  cast.  "This  world" 
uses  force ;  its  kingdoms  are  won  and  held  by  metallic 
processes,  tinctures  of  iron  and  steel.  In  the  kingdom 
of  God  carnal  weapons  are  cut  of  place;  its  only 
forces  are  truth  and  love,  and  he  who  takes  the  sword 
to  advance  this  cause  wounds  but  himself,  after  the 
vain  manner  of  Baal's  priests.  "  This  world  "  counts 
heads  or  hands;  the  kingdom  of  God  numbers  its 
citizens  by  hearts  alone.  "  This  world w  believes  in 
pomp  and  show,  in  outward  visibilities  and  symbols; 
the  kingdom  of  God  ccmeth  not  "  with  observation ; " 
its  voices  are  gentle  as  a  zephyr,  its  footsteps  noiseless 
as  the  coming  of  spring.  If  man  had  had  the  ordering 
cf  the  kingdom  he  would  have  summoned  to  his  aid 
all  kinds  of  portents  and  surprises;  he  would  have 
arranged  processions  of  imposing  events;  but  Jesus 
likens  the  coming  of  the  kingdom  to  a  grain  of  mustard- 
reed  cast  into  a  garden,  or  to  a  handful  of  leaven  hid 
in  three  saia  of  meal.  The  two  parables,  with  minor 
distinctions,  are  one  in  their  import,  the  leading  thought 
common  to  both  being  the  contrast  between  its  ultimate 
growth  and  the  smallness  and  obscurity  of  its  begin- 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD.  253 

nings.  In  both  the  recreative  force  is  a  hidden  force, 
buried  out  of  sight,  in  the  soil  or  in  the  meal.  In 
both  the  force  works  outward  from  its  centre,  the 
invisible  becoming  visible,  the  inner  life  assuming  an 
outer,  external  form.  In  both  we  see  the  touch  of  life 
upon  death ;  for  left  to  itself,  the  soil  never  would  be 
anything  more  than  dead  earth,  as  the  meal  would  be 
nothing  more  than  dust,  the  broken  ashes  of  a  life 
that  was  departed.  In  both  there  is  extension  by 
assimilation,  the  leaven  throwing  itself  out  among  the 
particles  of  kindred  meal,  while  the  tree  attracts  to 
itself  the  kindred  elements  of  the  soil.  In  both  there 
is  the  mediation  of  the  human  hand;  but  as  if  to  show 
that  the  kingdom  offers  equal  privilege  to  male  and 
female,  with  like  possibilities  of  service,  the  one  parable 
shows  us  the  hand  of  a  man,  the  other  the  hand  of  a 
woman.  In  both  there  is  a  perfect  work,  a  consum- 
mation, the  one  parable  showing  us  the  whole  mass 
leavened,  the  other  showing  us  the  wide-spreading 
tree,  with  the  birds  nesting  in  its  branches. 

Such,  in  outline,  is  the  rise  and  progress  of  the 
kingdom  of  God  in  the  heart  of  the  individual  man, 
and  in  the  world ;  for  the  human  soul  is  the  protoplasm, 
the  germ-cell,  out  of  which  this  world-wide  kingdom  is 
evolved.  The  mass  is  leavened  only  by  the  leavening 
of  the  separate  units.  And  how  comes  the  kingdom 
of  God  within  the  soul  and  life  of  man  ?  Not  with 
observation  or  supernatural  portents,  but  silently  as 
the  flashing  forth  of  light.  Thought,  desire,  purpose, 
prayer — these  are  the  wheels  of  the  chariot  in  which 
the  Lord  comes  to  His  temple,  the  King  into  His 
kingdom.  And  when  the  kingdom  of  God  is  set  up 
11  within  you  "  the  outer  life  shapes  itself  to  the  new 
purpose  and  aim,  the  writ  and  will  of  the  King  running 


254  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE, 

unhindered  through  every  department,  even  to  its  out- 
most frontier,  while  thoughts,  feelings,  desires,  and  all 
the  golden  coinage  of  the  heart  bear,  not,  as  before, 
the  image  of  Self,  but  the  image  and  superscription 
of  the  Invisible  King— the  "  Not  I,  but  Christ." 

And  so  the  honour  of  the  kingdom  is  in  our  keep- 
ing, as  the  growths  of  the  kingdom  are  in  our  hands. 
The  Divine  Cloud  adjusts  its  pace  to  our  human  steps, 
alas,  often  far  too  slow !  Shall  the  leaven  stop  with 
us,  as  we  make  religion  a  kind  of  sanctified  selfish- 
ness, doing  nothing  but  gauging  the  emotions  and 
singing  its  little  doxologies  ?  Do  we  forget  that  the 
weak  human  hand  carries  the  Ark  of  God,  and  pushes 
forward  the  boundaries  of  the  kingdom  ?  Do  we 
forget  that  hearts  are  only  won  by  hearts  ?  The 
kingdom  of  God  on  earth  is  the  kingdom  of  surrendered 
wills  and  of  consecrated  lives.  Shall  we  not,  then, 
pray,  "  Thy  kingdom  come,"  and  living  "  more  nearly 
as  we  pray,"  seek  a  redeemed  humanity  as  subjects  of 
our  King?  So  will  the  Divine  purpose  become  a 
realization,  and  the  " morning"  which  now  is  always 
"  somewhere  in  the  world "  will  be  everywhere,  the 
promise  and  the  dawn  of  a  heavenly  day,  the  eternal 
Sabbath ! 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING. 

IT  is  only  natural  that  our  Evangelist  should  linger 
with  a  professional  as  well  as  a  personal  interest 
over  Christ's  connection  with  human  suffering  and 
disease,  and  that  in  recounting  the  miracles  of  healing 
he  should  be  peculiarly  at  home;  the  theme  would 
be  in  such  thorough  accord  with  his  studies  and  tastes. 
It  is  true  he  does  not  refer  to  these  miracles  as  being 
a  fulfilment  of  prophecy;  it  is  left  for  St.  Matthew, 
who  weaves  his  Gospel  on  the  unfinished  warp  of  the 
Old  Testament,  to  recall  the  words  of  Isaiah,  how 
"Himself  took  our  infirmities  and  bare  our  diseases;" 
yet  our  physician-Evangelist  evidently  lingers  over  the 
pathological  side  of  his  Gospel  with  an  intense  interest. 
St.  John  passes  by  the  miracles  of  healing  in  compara- 
tive silence,  though  he  stays  to  give  us  two  cases  which 
are  omitted  by  the  Synoptists — that  of  the  nobleman's 
son  at  Capernaum,  and  that  of  the  impotent  man  at 
Bethesda.  But  St.  John's  Gospel  moves  in  more 
etherial  spheres,  and  the  touches  he  chronicles  are 
rather  the  touches  of  mind  with  mind,  spirit  with  spirit, 
than  the  physical  touches  through  the  coarser  medium 
of  the  flesh.  The  Synoptists,  however,  especially  in 
their  earlier  chapters,  bring  the  works  of  Christ  into 
prominence,  travelling,  too   very  much  over  the  same 


256  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

ground,  though  each  introduces  some  special  facts 
omitted  by  the  rest,  while  in  their  record  of  the  same 
fact  each  Evangelist  throws  some  additional  colouring. 

Grouping  together  the  miracles  of  healing — for  our 
space  will  not  allow  a  separate  treatment  of  each — our 
thought  is  first  arrested  by  the  variety  of  forms  in 
which  suffering  and  disease  presented  themselves  to 
Jesus,  the  wideness  of  the  ground,  physical  and 
psychical,  the  miracles  of  healing  cover.  Our  Evan- 
gelist mentions  fourteen  different  cases,  not,  however, 
as  including  the  whole,  or  even  the  greater  part,  but 
rather  as  being  typical,  representative  cases.  They 
are,  as  it  were,  the  nearer  constellations,  localized  and 
named ;  but  again  and  again  in  his  narrative  we  find 
whole  groups  and  clusters  lying  farther  back,  making 
a  sort  of  Milky  Way  of  light,  whose  thickly  clustered 
worlds  baffle  all  our  attempts  at  enumeration.  Such  are 
the  "  women  "  of  chap.  viii.  ver.  2,  who  had  been  healed 
of  their  infirmities,  but  whose  record  is  omitted  in  the 
Gospel  story ;  and  such,  too,  are  those  groups  of  cures 
mentioned  in  chapters  iv.  40,  v.  15,  vi.  19,  and  vii.  21, 
when  the  Divine  power  seemed  to  culminate,  throwing 
itself  out  in  a  largesse  of  blessing,  fairly  raining  down 
its  bright  gifts  of  healing  like  meteoric  showers. 

Turning  now  to  the  typical  cases  mentioned  by 
St.  Luke,  they  are  as  follows :  the  man  possessed 
of  an  unclean  demon;  Peter's  wife's  mother,  who 
was  sick  of  a  fever ;  a  leper,  a  paralytic,  the  man 
with  the  withered  hand,  the  servant  of  the  centurion, 
the  demoniac,  the  woman  with  an  issue,  the  boy 
possessed  with  a  demon,  the  man  with  a  dumb 
demon,  the  woman  with  an  infirmity,  the  man  with 
the  dropsy,  the  ten  lepers,  and  blind  Bartimseus. 
The  list,  like  so  many  lines  of  dark  meridians,  measures 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING.  257 

off  the  entire  circumference  of  the  world  of  suffering, 
beginning  with  the  withered  hand,  and  going  on  and 
down  to  that  "sacrament  of  death/'  leprosy,  and  to 
that  yet  further  deep,  demoniacal  possession.  Some 
diseases  were  of  more  recent  origin,  as  the  case  of 
fever ;  others  were  chronic,  of  twelve  or  eighteen  years' 
standing,  or  lifelong,  as  in  the  case  of  the  possessed 
boy.  In  some  a  solitary  organ  was  affected,  as  when 
the  hand  had  withered,  or  the  tongue  was  tied  by  some 
power  of  evil,  or  the  eyes  had  lost  their  gift  of  vision. 
In  others  the  whole  person  was  diseased,  as  when  the 
fires  of  the  fever  shot  through  the  heated  veins,  or 
the  lepro'.y  was  covering  the  flesh  with  the  white 
scales  of  o^ath.  But  whatever  its  nature  or  its  stage, 
the  disease  was  acute,  as  far  as  human  probabilities 
went,  past  aL  hope  of  healing.  It  was  no  slight  attack, 
but  a  "  great  fever "  which  had  stricken  down  the 
mother-in-law  of  Peter,  the  intensive  adjective  show- 
ing that  it  had  reached  its  danger-point.  And  where 
among  human  n  eans  was  there  hope  for  a  restored 
vision,  v\hen  for  years  the  last  glimmer  of  light  had 
faded  away,  when  even  the  optic  nerve  was  atrophied 
by  the  long  disuse  ?  and  where,  among  the  limited 
pharmacopoeias  of  ancient  times,  or  even  among  the 
vastly  extended  lists  of  modern  times,  was  there  a  cure 
for  the  leper,  who  carried,  burned  into  his  very  flesh, 
his  sentence  of  death  ?  No,  it  was  not  the  trivial, 
temporary  cases  of  sickness  Jesus  took  in  hand ;  but 
He  passed  into  that  innermost  shrine  of  the  temple  of 
suffering,  the  shrine  that  lay  in  perpetual  night,  and 
over  whose  doorway  was  the  inscription  of  Dante's 
"Jnferno,"  "All  hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  here!" 
But  when  Jesus  entered  this  grim  abode  He  turned  its 
darkness   to  light,  its  sighs  to   scngs,   bringing  hope 


258  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

to  despairing  ones,  and  leading  back  into  the  light  of 
day  these  captives  of  Death,  as  Orpheus  is  fabled  to 
have  brought  back  to  earth  the  lost  Eurydice. 

And  not  only  are  the  cases  so  varied  in  their  cha- 
racter, and  humanly  speaking,  hopeless  in  their  nature, 
but  they  were  presented  to  Jesus  in  such  a  diversity 
of  ways.  They  are  none  of  them  arranged  for,  studied. 
They  could  not  have  formed  any  plan  or  routine  of 
mercy,  nor  were  they  timed  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
ducing spectacular  effects.  They  were  nearly  all  of 
them  impromptu,  extemporary  events,  coming  without 
His  seeking,  and  coming  often  as  interruptions  to  His 
own  plans.  Now  it  is  in  the  synagogue,  in  the  pauses 
of  public  worship,  that  Jesus  rebukes  an  unclean  devil, 
or  He  bids  the  cripple  stretch  out  his  withered  hand. 
Nov/  it  is  in  the  city,  amid  the  crowd,  or  out  upon  the 
plain ;  now  it  is  within  the  house  of  a  chief  Pharisee, 
in  the  very  midst  of  an  entertainment ;  while  at  other 
times  He  is  walking  on  the  road,  when,  without  even 
stopping  in  His  journey,  He  wills  the  leper  clean,  or 
He  throws  the  gift  of  life  and  health  forward  to  the 
centurion's  servant,  whom  He  has  not  seen.  No  times 
were  inopportune  to  Him,  and  no  places  were  foreign 
to  the  Son  of  man,  where  men  suffered  and  pain  abode. 
Jesus  refused  no  request  on  the  ground  that  the  time 
was  not  well  chosen,  and  though  He  did  again  and 
again  refuse  the  request  of  selfish  interest  or  vain 
ambition,  He  never  once  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  cry 
of  sorrow  or  of  pain,  no  matter  when  or  whence  it 
came. 

And  if  we  consider  His  methods  of  healing  we  find 
the  same  diversity.  Perhaps  we  ought  not  to  use  that 
word,  for  there  was  a  singular  absence  of  method. 
There  was  nothing  set,  artificial  in  His  way,  but  an 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING.  259 

easy  freedom,  a  beautiful  naturalness.  In  one  respect, 
and  perhaps  in  one  only,  are  all  similar,  and  that  is  in 
the  absence  of  intermediaries.  There  was  no  use  of 
means,  no  prescription  of  remedies  ;  for  in  the  seeming 
exception,  the  clay  with  which  He  anointed  the  eyes  of 
the  blind,  and  the  waters  of  Siloam  which  He  pre- 
scribed, were  not  remedial  in  themselves ;  the  washing 
was  rather  the  test  of  the  man's  faith,  while  the  anoint- 
ing was  a  sort  of  "  aside,"  spoken,  not  to  the  man 
himself,  but  to  the  group  of  onlookers,  preparing  them 
for  the  fresh  manifestation  of  His  power.  Generally  a 
word  was  enough,  though  we  read  of  His  healing 
"touch,"  and  twice  of  the  symbolic  laying  on  of  hands. 
And  by-the-way,  it  is  somewhat  singular  that  Jesus 
made  use  of  the  touch  at  the  healing  of  the  leper, 
when  the  touch  meant  ceremonial  uncleanness.  Why 
does  He  not  speak  the  word  only,  as  He  did  afterwards 
at  the  healing  of  the  u  ten  "  ?  And  why  does  He,  as 
it  were,  go  out  of  His  way  to  put  Himself  in  personal 
contact  with  a  leper,  who  was  under  a  ceremonial  ban  ? 
Was  it  not  to  show  that  a  new  era  had  dawned,  an  era 
in  which  uncleanness  should  be  that  of  the  heart,  the 
life,  and  no  longer  the  outward  uncleanness,  which  any 
accident  of  contact  might  induce  ?  Did  not  the  touch- 
ing of  the  leper  mean  the  abrogation  of  the  multiplied 
bans  of  the  Old  Dispensation,  just  as  afterwards  a 
heavenly  vision  coming  to  Peter  wiped  out  the  dividing- 
line  between  clean  and  unclean  meats  ?  And  why  did 
not  the  touch  of  the  leper  make  Jesus  ceremonially 
unclean  ?  for  we  do  not  read  that  it  did,  or  that  He 
altered  His  plans  one  whit  because  01  it.  Perhaps  we 
find  our  answer  in  the  Levitical  regulations  respecting 
the  leprosy.  We  read  (Lev.  xiv.  28)  that  at  the 
cleansing  of  the  leper  the  priest  was  to  dip  his  right 


26o  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

finger  in  the  blood  and  in  the  oil,  and  put  it  on  the  ear, 
and  hand,  and  foct  of  the  person  cleansed.  The  finger 
of  the  priest  was  thus  the  index  or  sign  of  purity,  the 
lifting  up  of  the  ban  which  his  leprosy  had  put  around 
and  over  him.  And  when  Jesus  touched  the  leper  it 
was  the  priestly  touch ;  it  carried  its  own  cleansing 
with  it,  imparting  power  and  purity,  instead  of  con- 
tracting the  defilement  of  another. 

But  if  Jesus  touched  the  leper,  and  permitted  the 
woman  of  Capernaum  to  touch  Him,  or  at  any  rate 
His  garment,  He  studiously  avoided  any  personal  con- 
tact with  these  possessed  of  devils.  He  recognized 
here  the  presence  of  evil  spirits,  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness, which  have  enthralled  the  weaker  human  spirit, 
and  for  these  a  word  is  enough.  But  how  different  a 
word  to  His  other  words  of  healing,  when  He  said  to 
the  leper,  "  I  will ;  be  thou  clean,"  and  to  Bartimseus, 
"  Receive  thy  sight "  !  Now  it  is  a  word  sharp,  im- 
perative, not  spoken  to  the  poor  helpless  victim,  but 
thrown  over  and  beyond  him,  to  the  dark  personality, 
which  held  a  human  soul  in  a  vile,  degrading  bondage. 
And  so  while  the  possessed  boy  lay  writhing  and  foam- 
ing on  the  ground,  Jesus  laid  no  hand  upon  him ;  it 
was  not  till  after  He  had  spoken  the  mighty  word,  and 
the  demon  had  departed  from  him,  that  Jesus  took  him 
by  the  hand  and  lifted  him  up. 

But  whether  by  word  or  by  touch,  the  miracles  were 
wrought  with  consummate  ease;  there  were  none  of 
those  artistic  flourishes  which  mere  performers  use  as 
a  blind  to  cover  their  sleight  of  hand.  There  was  no 
straining  for  effect,  no  apparent  effort.  Jesus  Himself 
seemed  perfectly  unconscious  that  He  was  doing  any- 
thing marvellous  or  even  unusual.  The  words  of  power 
fell  naturally  from  His  lips,  like  the  falling  of  leaves 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING.  261 

from  the  tree  of  life,  carrying,  wheresoever  they  might 
go,  healing  for  the  nations. 

But  if  the  method  of  the  cures  is  wonderful,  the 
unstudied  ease  and  simple  naturalness  of  the  Healer, 
the  completeness  of  the  cures  is  even  more  so.  In  all 
the  multitudes  of  cases  there  was  no  failure.  We  find 
the  disciples  baffled  and  chagrined,  attempting  what 
they  cannot  perform,  as  with  the  possessed  boy ;  but 
with  Jesus  failure  was  an  impossible  word.  Nor  did 
Jesus  simply  make  them  better,  bringing  them  into  a 
state  of  convalescence,  and  so  putting  them  in  the  way 
of  getting  well.  The  cure  was  instant  and  complete ; 
u  immediately "  is  St.  Luke's  frequent  and  favourite 
word ;  so  much  so  that  she  who  half  an  hour  ago  was 
stricken  down  with  malignant  fever,  and  apparently 
at  the  point  of  death,  now  is  going  about  her  ordinary 
duties  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  "ministering"  to 
Peter's  many  guests.  Though  Nature  possesses  a  great 
deal  of  resilient  force,  her  periods  of  convalescence, 
when  the  disease  itself  is  checked,  are  more  or  less 
prolonged,  and  weeks,  or  sometimes  months,  must 
elapse  before  the  spring-tides  of  health  return,  bringing 
with  them  a  sweet  overflow,  an  exuberance  of  life. 
Not  so,  however,  when  Jesus  was  the  Healer.  At  His 
word,  or  at  the  mere  beckoning  of  His  finger,  the  tides 
of  health,  which  had  gone  far  out  in  the  ebb,  suddenly 
returned  in  all  their  spring  fulness,  lifting  high  on  their 
wave  the  bark  which  through  hopeless  years  had  been 
settling  down  into  its  miry  grave.  Eighteen  years  of 
disease  had  made  the  woman  quite  deformed ;  the  con- 
tracting muscles  had  bent  the  form  God  made  to  stand 
erect,  so  that  she  could  "  in  no  wise  lift  herself  up ; " 
but  when  Jesus  said,  "  Woman,  thou  art  loosed  from 
thine  infirmity,"  and  laid  His  hands  upon  her,  in  an 


262  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

instant  the  tightened  muscles  relaxed,  the  bent  form 
regained  its  earlier  grace,  for  "  she  was  made  straight, 
and  glorified  God."  One  moment,  with  the  Christ  in 
it,  was  more  than  eighteen  years  of  disease,  and  with 
the  most  perfect  ease  it  could  undo  all  the  eighteen 
years  had  done.  And  this  is  but  a  specimen  case,  for 
the  same  completeness  characterizes  all  the  cures  that 
Jesus  wrought.  "  They  were  made  whole,"  as  it  reads, 
no  matter  what  the  malady  might  be ;  and  though 
disease  had  loosened  all  the  thousand  strings,  so  that 
the  wonderful  harp  was  reduced  to  silence,  or  at  best 
could  but  strike  discordant  notes,  the  hand  of  Jesus  has 
but  to  touch  it,  and  in  an  instant  each  string  recovers 
its  pristine  tone,  the  jarring  sounds  vanish,  and  body, 
".  mind,  and  soul  according  well,  awake  sweet  music  as 
before." 

But  though  Jesus  wrought  these  many  and  complete 
cures,  making  the  healing  of  the  sick  a  sort  of  pastime, 
the  interludes  in  that  Divine  "  Messiah,"  still  He 
did  not  work  these  miracles  indiscriminately,  without 
method  or  conditions.  He  freely  placed  His  service 
at  the  disposal  of  others,  giving  Himself  up  to  one  tire- 
less round  of  mercy ;  but  it  is  evident  there  was  some 
selection  for  these  gifts  of  healing.  The  healing  power 
was  not  thrown  out  randomly,  falling  on  any  one  it 
might  chance  to  strike  ;  it  flowed  out  in  certain  direc- 
tions only,  in  ordered  channels ;  it  followed  certain 
lines  and  laws.  For  instance,  these  circles  of  healing 
were  geographically  narrow.  They  followed  the  per- 
sonal presence  of  Jesus,  and  with  one  or  two  excep- 
tions, were  never  found  apart  from  that  presence ;  so 
that,  many  as  they  were,  they  would  form  but  a  small 
part  of  suffering  humanity.  And  even  within  these 
circles  of  His  visible  presence  we  are  not  to  suppose 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING.  263 


that  all  were  healed.  Some  were  taken,  and  others 
were  left,  to  a  suffering  from  which  only  death  would 
release  them.  Can  we  discover  the  law  of  this  election 
of  mercy  ?     We  think  we  may. 

(1)  In  the  first  place,  there  must  be  the  need  for  the 
Divine  intervention.  This  perhaps  goes  without  saying, 
and  dees  not  seem  to  mean  much,  since  among  those 
who  were  left  unhealed  there  were  needs  just  as  great 
as  those  of  the  more  favoured  ones.  But  while  the 
"  need  "  in  some  cases  was  not  enough  to  secure  the 
Divine  mercy,  in  other  cases  it  was  all  that  was  asked. 
If  the  disease  was  mental  or  psychical,  with  reason 
all  bewildered,  and  the  firmaments  of  Right  and  Wrong 
mixed  confusedly  together,  making  a  chaos  of  the  soul, 
that  was  all  Jesus  required.  At  other  times  He  waited 
for  the  desire  to  be  evoked  and  the  request  to  be  made ; 
but  for  these  cases  of  lunacy,  epilepsy,  and  demoniacal 
possession  He  waived  the  other  conditions,  and 
without  waiting  for  the  request,  as  in  the  synagogue 
(iv.  34)  or  on  the  Gadarene  coast,  He  spoke  the  word, 
which  brought  order  to  a  distracted  soul,  and  which 
led  Reason  back  to  her  Jerusalem,  to  the  long-vacant 
throne. 

For  others  the  need  itself  was  not  sufficient ;  there 
must  be  the  request.  Our  desire  for  any  blessing  is 
cur  appraisement  of  its  value,  and  Jesus  dispensed  His 
gifts  of  healing  on  the  Divine  conditions,  "  Ask,  and 
ye  shall  receive ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find."  How  the 
request  came,  whether  from  the  sufferer  himself  or 
through  some  intercessor,  it  did  not  matter;  for  no 
request  for  healing  came  to  Jesus  to  be  disregarded  or 
denied.  Nor  was  it  always  needful  to  put  the  request 
into  words.  Prayer  is  too  grand  and  great  a  thing 
for  the  lips  to  have  a  monopoly  of  it,  and  the  deepest 


264  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

prayers  may  be  put  into  acts  as  well  as  into  words, 
as  they  are  sometimes  uttered  in  inarticulate  sighs,  and 
in  groans  which  are  too  deep  for  words.  And  was  it 
not  truest  prayer,  as  the  multitudes  carried  their  sick 
and  laid  them  down  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  even  had 
their  voice  spoken  no  solitary  word  ?  and  was  it  not 
truest  prayer,  as  they  put  themselves,  with  their  bent 
forms  and  withered  hands  right  in  His  way,  not  able 
to  speak  one  single  word,  but  throwing  across  to  Him 
the  piteous  but  hopeful  look  ?  The  request  was  thus 
the  expression  of  their  desire,  and  at  the  same  time 
the  expression  of  their  faith,  telling  of  the  trust  they 
reposed  in  His  pity  and  His  power,  a  trust  He  was 
always  delighted  to  see,  and  to  which  He  always 
responded,  as  He  Himself  said  again  and  again,  "  Thy 
faith  hath  saved  thee."  Faith  then,  as  now,  was  the 
sesame  to  which  all  Heaven's  gates  fly  open ;  and 
as  in  the  case  of  the  paralytic  who  was  borne  of  four, 
and  let  down  through  the  roof,  even  a  vicarious  faith 
prevails  with  Jesus,  as  it  brings  to  their  friend  a  double 
and  complete  salvation.  And  so  they  who  sought 
Jesus  as  their  Healer  found  Him,  and  they  who 
believed  entered  into  His  rest,  this  lower  rest  of  a  per- 
fect health  and  perfect  life ;  while  they  who  were 
indifferent  and  they  who  doubted  were  left  behind, 
crushed  by  the  sorrow  that  He  would  have  removed, 
and  tortured  by  pains  that  His  touch  would  have  com- 
pletely stilled. 

And  now  it  remains  for  us  to  gather  up  the  light  of 
these  miracles,  and  to  focus  it  on  Him  who  was  the 
central  Figure,  Jesus,  the  Divine  Healer.  And  (i) 
the  miracles  of  healing  speak  of  the  knowledge  of 
Jesus.  The  question,  "  What  is  man  ?  "  has  been  the 
standing  question  of  the  ages,  but  it  is  still  unanswered, 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING.  265 

or  answered  but  in  part.  His  complex  nature  is  still 
a  mystery,  the  eternal  riddle  of  the  Sphinx,  and  CEdipus 
comes  not.  Physiology  can  number  and  name  the  bones 
and  muscles,  can  tell  the  forms  and  functions  of  the 
different  organs ;  chemistry  can  resolve  the  body  into 
its  constituent  elements,  and  weigh  out  their  exact  pro- 
portions ;  philosophy  can  map  out  the  departments  of 
the  mind  ;  but  man  remains  the  great  enigma.  Biology 
carries  her  silken  clue  right  up  to  the  primordial  cell ; 
but  here  she  finds  a  Gordian  knot,  which  her  keenest 
instruments  cannot  cut,  or  her  keenest  wit  unravel. 
Within  that  complex  nature  of  ours  are  oceans  of 
mystery  which  Thought  may  indeed  explore,  but  which 
she  cannot  fathom,  paths  which  the  vulture  eye  of 
Reason  hath  not  seen,  whose  voices  are  the  voices  of 
unknown  tongues,  answering  each  other  through  the 
mist.  But  how  familiar  did  Jesus  seem  with  all  these 
life-secrets !  how  intimate  with  all  the  life-forces  I 
Kow  versed  He  was  in  etiology,  knowing  without 
possibility  of  mistake  whence  diseases  came,  and  just 
where  they  looked  !  It  was  no  mystery  to  Him 
how  the  hand  had  shrunk,  shrivelling  into  a  mass  of 
bones,  with  no  skill  in  its  fingers,  and  no  life  in  its 
cloyed-up  veins,  or  how  the  eyes  had  lost  their  power 
of  vision.  His  knowledge  of  the  human  frame  was 
an  exact  and  perfect  knowledge,  reading  its  innermost 
secrets,  as  in  a  transparency,  knowing  to  a  certainty 
what  links  had  dropped  out  of  the  subtle  mechan- 
ism, and  what  had  been  warped  out  of  place,  and 
knowing  well  just  at  what  point  and  to  what  an 
extent  to  apply  the  healing  remedy,  which  was  His 
own  volition.  All  earth  and  all  heaven  were  with- 
out a  covering  to  His  gaze;  and  what  was  this  but 
Omniscience  ? 


266  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

(2)  Again,  the  miracles  of  healing  speak  of  the 
compassion  of  Jesus.  It  was  with  no  reluctsnce  that 
He  wrought  these  works  of  mercy;  it  was  His  delight. 
His  heart  was  drawn  towards  suffering  and  pain  by  the 
magnetism  of  a  Divine  sympathy,  or  rather,  we  ought 
to  say,  towards  the  sufferers  themselves ;  for  suffering 
and  pain,  like  sin  and  woe,  were  exotics  in  His  Father's 
garden,  the  deadly  nightshade  an  enemy  had  sown. 
And  so  we  mark  a  great  tenderness  in  all  His  dealings 
with  the  afflicted.  He  does  not  apply  the  caustic  of 
bitter  and  biting  words.  Even  when,  as  we  may  sup- 
pose, the  suffering  is  the  harvest  of  earlier  sin,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  paralytic,  Jesus  speaks  no  harsh  reproaches  ; 
He  says  simply  and  kindly,  u  Go  in  peace,  and  sin  no 
more."  And  do  we  not  find  here  a  reason  why  these 
miracles  of  healing  were  so  frequent  in  His  ministry  ? 
Was  it  not  because  in  His  mind  Sickness  was  some- 
how related  to  Sin  ?  If  miracles  were  needed  to  attest 
the  Divineness  of  His  mission,  there  was  no  need  of  the 
constant  succession  of  them,  no  need  that  they  should 
form  a  part,  and  a  large  part,  of  the  daily  task.  Sick- 
ness is,  so  to  speak,  something  unnaturally  natural. 
It  results  from  the  transgression  of  some  physical  law, 
as  Sin  is  the  transgression  of  some  moral  law ;  and  He 
who  is  man's  Saviour  brings  a  complete  salvation, 
a  redemption  for  the  body  as  well  as  a  redemption  for 
the  soul.  Indeed,  the  diseases  of  the  body  are  but  the 
shadows,  seen  and  felt,  of  the  deeper  diseases  of  the 
soul,  and  with  Jesus  the  physical  healing  was  but  a 
step  to  the  higher  truth  and  higher  experience,  that 
spiritual  cleansing,  that  inner  creation  of  a  right  spirit, 
a  perfect  heart.  And  so  Jesus  carried  on  the  two  works 
side  by  side ;  they  were  the  two  parts  of  His  one  and 
great  salvation ;  and  as  He  loved  and  pitied  the  sinner, 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING.  267 

so  He  pitied  and  loved  the  sufferer ;  His  sympathies  all 
went  out  to  meet  him,  preparing  the  way  for  His  healing 
virtues  to  follow. 

(3)  Again,  the  miracles  of  healing  speak  of  the  power 
of  Jesus.  This  was  seen  indirectly  when  we  considered 
the  completeness  of  the  cures,  and  the  wide  field  they 
covered,  and  we  need  not  enlarge  upon  it  now.  But 
what  a  consciousness  of  might  there  was  in  Jesus ! 
Others,  prophets  and  apostles,  have  healed  the  sick, 
but  their  power  was  delegated.  It  came  as  in  waves 
of  Divine  impulse,  intermittent  and  temporary.  The 
power  that  Jesus  wielded  was  inherent  and  absolute, 
deeps  which  knew  neither  cessation  nor  diminution. 
His  will  was  supreme  over  all  forces.  Nature's  potencies 
are  diffused  and  isolated,  slumbering  in  herb  or  metal, 
flower  or  leaf,  in  mountain  or  sea.  But  all  are  inert  and 
useless  until  man  distils  them  with  his  subtle  alchemies, 
and  then  applies  them  by  his  slow  processes,  dissolving 
the  tinctures  in  the  blood,  sending  on  its  warm  currents 
the  healing  virtue,  if  haply  it  may  reach  its  goal  and 
accomplish  its  mission.  But  all  these  potencies  lay 
in  the  hand  or  in  the  will  of  Christ.  The  forces  of 
life  all  were  marshalled  under  His  bidding.  He  had 
but  to  say  to  one  "  Go,"  and  it  went,  here  or  there, 
or  any  whither ;  nor  does  it  go  for  nought ;  it  accom- 
plishes its  high  behest,  the  great  Master's  will.  Nay, 
the  power  of  Jesus  is  supreme  even  in  that  outlying 
and  dark  world  of  evil  spirits.  The  demons  fly  at 
His  rebuke ;  and  let  Him  throw  but  one  healing  word 
across  the  dark,  chaotic  soul  of  one  possessed,  and 
in  an  instant  Reason  dawns;  bright  thoughts  play 
on  the  horizon ;  the  firmaments  of  Right  and  Wrong 
separate  to  infinite  distances ;  and  out  of  the  darkness 
a  Paradise  emerges,  of  beauty  and  light,  where  the  new 


268  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

son  of  God  resides,  and  God  Himself  comes  down  in 
the  cool  and  the  heat  of  the  days  alike.  What  power 
is  this?  Is  it  not  the  power  of  God?  is  it  not 
Omnipotence  ? 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  LOAVES, 
Luke  ix.  1-17. 

THE  Galilean  ministry  was  drawing  to  a  close, 
for  the  "  great  Light "  which  had  risen  over  the 
northern  province  must  now  move  southward,  to  set 
behind  a  cross  and  a  grave.  Jesus,  however,  is  reluc- 
tant to  leave  these  borders,  amid  whose  hills  the  greater 
part  of  His  life  has  been  spent,  and  among  whose  com- 
posite population  His  greatest  successes  have  been  won, 
without  one  last  effort.  Calling  together  the  Twelve, 
who  hitherto  have  been  Apostles  in  promise  and  in 
name  rather  than  in  fact,  He  lays  His  plans  before 
them.  Dividing  the  district  into  sections,  so  as  to 
equalize  their  labours  and  prevent  any  overlapping,  He 
sends  them  out  in  pairs ;  for  in  the  Divine  arithmetic 
two  are  more  than  twice  one,  more  than  the  sum  of  the 
separate  units  by  all  the  added  force  and  strength  of 
fellowship.  They  are  to  be  the  heralds  of  the  new 
kingdom,  to  "preach  the  kingdom  of  God,"  their  in- 
signia no  outward,  visible  badge,  but  the  investiture  of 
authority  over  all  demons,  and  power  over  all  diseases. 
Apostles  of  the  Unseen,  servants  of  the  Invisible  King, 
they  must  dismiss  all  worldly  cares;  they  must  not 
even  make  provision  for  their  journey,  weighting  them- 
selves with   such  impedimenta  as  wallets  stored  with 


270  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

bread  or  changes  of  raiment.  They  must  go  forth  in  an 
absolute  trust  in  God,  thus  proving  themselves  citizens 
of  the  heavenly  kingdom,  whose  gates  they  open  to  all 
who  will  repent  and  step  up  into  them.  They  may  take 
a  staff,  for  that  will  help  rather  than  hinder  on  the  steep 
mountain  paths ;  but  since  the  King's  business  requireth 
haste,  they  must  not  spend  their  time  in  the  interminable 
salutations  of  the  age,  nor  in  going  about  from  house  to 
house ;  such  changes  would  only  distract,  diverting  to 
themselves  the  thought  which  should  be  centred  upon 
their  mission.  Should  any  city  not  receive  them,  they 
must  retire  at  once,  shaking  off,  as  they  depart,  the  very 
dust  from  their  feet,  as  a  testimony  against  them. 

Such  were  the  directions,  as  Jesus  dismissed  the 
Twelve,  sending  them  to  reap  the  Galilean  harvest,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  prepare  them  for  the  wider  fields 
which  after  the  Pentecost  would  open  to  them  on  every 
side.  It  is  only  by  incidental  allusions  that  we  learn 
anything  as  to  the  success  of  the  mission,  but  when 
our  Evangelist  says  "  they  went  throughout  the  villages, 
preaching  the  Gospel  and  healing  everywhere,"  these 
frequent  miracles  of  healing  would  imply  that  they 
found  a  sympathetic  and  receptive  people.  Nor  were 
the  impulses  of  the  new  movement  confined  to  the 
lower  reaches  of  society ;  for  even  the  palace  felt  its 
vibrations,  and  St.  Luke,  who  seems  to  have  had  private 
means  of  information  within  the  Court,  possibly  through 
Chuza  and  Manaen,, pauses  to  give  us  a  kind  of  silhouette 
of  the  Tetrarch.  Herod  himself  is  perplexed.  Like  a 
vane,  "that  fox"  swings  round  to  the  varying  gusts  of 
public  opinion  that  come  eddying  within  the  palace 
from  the  excited  world  outside ;  and  as  some  say  that 
Jesus  is  Elias,  and  others  "one  of  the  old  prophets/ 
while  others  aver  that  He  is  John  himself,  risen  from 


ix.i-17.]         THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  LOAVES.  271 

the  dead,  this  last  rumour  falls  upon  the  ears  of  Herod 
like  alarming  thunders,  making  him  quiver  like  an  aspen. 
"And  he  sought  to  see  Jesus."  The  " conscience 
that  makes  cowards  of  us  all "  had  unnerved  him,  and 
he  longed  by  a  personal  acquaintance  with  Jesus  to 
waive  back  out  of  his  sight  the  apparition  of  the 
murdered  prophet.  Who  Jesus  might  be  did  not 
much  concern  Herod.  He  might  be  Elias,  or  one  of 
the  old  prophets,  anything  but  John ;  and  so  when 
Herod  did  see  Jesus  afterwards,  and  saw  that  He  was 
not  the  risen  Baptist,  but  the  Man  of  Galilee,  his 
courage  revived,  and  he  gave  Jesus  into  the  hands  of 
his  cohorts,  that  they  might  mock  Him  with  the  faded 
purple. 

What  steps  Herod  took  to  secure  an  interview  we 
do  not  know ;  but  the  verb  indicates  more  than  a  wish 
on  his  part ;  it  implies  some  plan  or  attempt  to  gratify 
the  wish ;  and  probably  it  was  these  advances  of 
Herod,  together  with  the  Apostles'  need  of  rest  after 
the  strain  and  excitements  of  their  mission,  which 
prompted  Jesus  to  seek  a  place  of  retirement  outside 
the  bounds  of  Antipas.  On  the  northern  shore  of  the 
Sea  of  Galilee,  and  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Jordan, 
was  a  second  Bethsaida,  or  "  House  of  Fish "  as  the 
name  means,  built  by  Philip,  and  to  which,  in  honour 
of  Caesar's  daughter,  he  gave  the  surname  of  "Julias." 
The  city  itself  stood  on  the  hills,  some  three  or  four 
miles  back  from  the  shore ;  while  between  the  city  and 
the  lake  swept  a  wide  and  silent  plain,  all  unfilled,  as 
the  New  Testament  " desert"  means,  but  rich  in 
pasturage,  as  the  "much  grass"  of  John  vi.  10  would 
show.  This  still  shore  offered,  as  it  seemed,  a  safe 
refuge  from  the  exacting  and  intrusive  crowds  of 
Capernaum,    whose   constant   coming   and    going   left 


272  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

them  no  leisure  so  much  as  to  eat ;  and  bidding  them 
launch  the  familiar  boat,  Jesus  and  the  twelve  sail 
away  to  the  other  side.  The  excited  crowds,  however, 
which  followed  them  to  the  water's  edge,  are  not  so 
easily  to  be  shaken  off;  but  guessing  the  direction  of 
the  boat,  they  seek  to  head  her  off  by  a  quick  detour 
round  the  shore.  And  some  of  them  do ;  for  when 
the  boat  grates  on  the  northern  shingle  some  of  the 
swift-footed  ones  are  already  there ;  while  stretching 
back  for  miles  is  a  stream  of  humanity,  of  both  sexes 
and  of  all  ages,  but  all  fired  with  one  purpose.  The 
desert  has  suddenly  grown  populous. 

And  how  dees  Jesus  bear  this  interruption  to  His 
plans  ?  Does  He  chafe  at  this  intrusion  of  the  people 
upon  His  quiet  hours  ?  Does  He  resent  their  impor- 
tunity, calling  it  impertinence,  then  driving  them  from 
Him  with  a  whip  of  sharp  words  ?  Not  so.  Jesus 
was  accustomed  to  interruptions ;  they  formed  almost 
the  staple  of  His  life.  Nor  did  He  repulse  one  solitary 
soul  which  sought  sincerely  His  mercy,  no  matter  how 
unseasonable  the  hour,  as  men  would  read  the  hours. 
So  now  Jesus  "  received  "  them,  or  "  welcomed  "  them, 
as  it  is  in  the  R.V.  It  is  a  favourite  word  with 
St.  Luke,  found  in  his  Gospel  more  frequently  than  in 
the  other  three  Gospels  together.  Applied  to  persons, 
it  means  nearly  always  to  receive  as  guests,  to  welcome 
to  hospitality  and  home.  And  such  is  its  meaning 
here.  Jesus  takes  the  place  of  the  host.  True,  it  is 
a  desert  place,  but  it  is  a  part  of  the  All- Father's  world, 
a  room  of  the  Father's  house,  carpeted  with  grass 
and  ablaze  with  flowers  ;  and  Jesus,  by  His  welcome, 
transforms  the  desert  into  a  guest-chamber,  where  in 
a  new  way  He  keeps  the  Passover  with  His  disciples, 
at  the  same  time  entertaining  His  thousands  of  self- 


fc.i-17.]         THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  LOAVES.  273 

bidden  guests,  giving  to  them  truth,  speaking  of  the 
kingdom  of  God,  and  giving  health,  healing  "those 
that  had  need  of  healing." 

It  was  toward  evening,  "when  the  day  began  to 
wear  away,"  that  Jesus  gave  to  a  bright  and  busy  day 
its  crowning  benediction.  The  thought  had  already 
ripened  into  purpose,  in  His  mind,  to  spread  a  table 
for  them  in  the  wilderness;  for  how  could  He,  the 
compassionate  One,  send  them  to  their  homes  famish- 
ing and  faint  ?  These  poor,  shepherdless  sheep  have 
put  themselves  into  His  care.  Their  simple,  unpro- 
viding  confidence  has  made  Him  in  a  sense  responsible, 
and  can  He  disappoint  that  confidence?  It  is  true 
they  have  been  thoughtless  and  improvident.  They 
have  let  the  enthusiasm  of  the  hour  carry  them  awTay, 
without  making  any  provision  of  the  necessary  food ; 
but  even  this  does  not  check  the  flow  of  the  Divine 
compassion,  for  Jesus  proceeds  to  fill  up  their  lack  of 
thought  by  His  Divine  thoughtfulness,  and  their  scarcity 
with  His  Divine  affluence. 

According  to  St.  John,  it  was  Jesus  who  took  the 
initiative,  as  He  put  the  test-question  to  Philip, 
"  Whence  shall  we  buy  bread,  that  these  may  eat  ?  " 
Philip  does  not  reply  to  the  "whence;"  that  may  stand 
aside  awhile,  as  in  mathematical  language  he  speaks 
to  the  previous  question,  which  is  their  ability  to  buy. 
"Two  hundred  pennyworth  of  bread,"  he  said,  "is  not 
sufficient  for  them,  that  every  one  may  take  a  little." 
He  does  not  say  how  much  would  be  required  to 
satisfy  the  hunger  of  the  multitude ;  his  reckoning  is 
not  for  a  feast,  but  for  a  taste,  to  every  one  "  a  little." 
Nor  does  he  calculate  the  full  cost  of  even  this,  but 
says  simply,  "  Two  hundred  pennyworth  would  not  be 
sufficient."    Evidently,  in  Philip's  mind  the  two  hundred 

18 


274  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.   LUKE. 

pence  is  the  known  quantity  of  the  equation,  and  he 
works  out  his  calculation  from  that,  as  he  proves  the 
impossibility  of  buying  bread  for  this  vast  company 
anywhere.  We  may  therefore  conclude  that  the  two 
hundred  pence  represented  the  value  of  the  common 
purse,  the  purchasing  power  of  the  Apostolic  com- 
munity; and  this  was  a  sum  altogether  inadequate  to 
meet  the  cost  of  providing  bread  for  the  multitude. 
The  only  alternative,  as  far  as  the  disciples  see,  is  to 
dismiss  them,  and  let  them  requisition  for  themselves ; 
and  in  a  peremptory  manner  they  ask  Jesus  to  "send 
the  multitude  away,"  reminding  Him  of  what  certainly 
they  had  no  need  to  remind  Him,  that  they  were  here 
"  in  a  desert  place." 

The  disciples  had  spoken  in  their  subjunctive,  non 
possumus,  way ;  it  is  now  time  for  Jesus  to  speak, 
which  He  does,  not  in  interrogatives  longer,  but  in  His 
imperative,  commanding  tone  :  "  Give  ye  them  to  eat," 
a  word  which  throws  the  disciples  back  upon  them- 
selves in  astonishment  and  utter  helplessness.  What 
can  they  do  ?  The  whole  available  supply,  as  Andrew 
reports  it,  is  but  five  barley  loaves  and  two  small  fishes, 
which  a  lad  has  brought,  possibly  for  their  own  refresh- 
ment. Five  flat  loaves  of  barley,  which  was  the  food 
of  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  and  "  two  small  fishes,"  as 
St.  John  calls  them,  throwing  a  bit  of  local  colouring  into 
the  narrative  by  his  diminutive  word — these  are  the 
foundation  repast,  which  Jesus  asks  to  be  brought  to 
Himself,  that  from  Himself  it  may  go,  broken  and 
enlarged,  to  the  multitude  of  guests.  Meantime  the 
crowd  is  just  as  large,  and  perhaps  more  excited  and 
impatient  than  before;  for  they  would  not  understand 
these  "  asides  "  between  the  disciples  and  the  Master, 
nor   could   they   read   as   yet  His  compassionate  and 


Ix.  1-17.]         THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  LOAVES.  275 

benevolent  thought.  It  would  be  a  pushing,  jostling 
crowd,  as  these  thousands  were  massed  on  the  hill-side. 
Some  are  gathered  in  little  groups,  discussing  the 
Messiahship ;  others  are  clustered  round  seme  relative 
or  friend,  who  to-day  has  been  wonderfully  healed  ; 
while  others,  of  the  forward  sort,  are  selfishly  elbowing 
their  way  to  the  front.  The  whole  scene  is  a  kaleido- 
scope of  changing  form  and  colour,  a  perfect  chaos  of 
confusion.  But  Jesus  speaks  again  :  "  Make  them  sit 
down  in  companies  ; "  and  those  words,  thrown  across 
the  seething  mass,  reduce  it  to  order,  crystallizing 
it,  as  it  were,  into  measured  and  numbered  lines. 
St.  Mark,  half-playfully,  likens  it  to  a  garden,  with  its 
parterres  of  flowers  ;  and  such  indeed  it  was,  but  it  was 
a  garden  of  the  higher  cult,  with  its  variegated  beds  of 
humanity,  a  hundred  men  broad,  and  fifty  deep. 

When  order  was  secured,  and  all  were  in  their  places, 
Jesus  takes  His  place  as  the  host  at  the  head  of  the 
extemporized  table,  and  though  it  is  most  frugal  fare, 
He  holds  the  barley  loaves  heavenward,  and  lifting  up 
His  eyes,  He  blesses  God,  probably  in  the  words  of 
the  usual  formula,  "Blessed  art  Thou,  Jehovah  our 
God,  King  of  the  world,  Who  causeth  to  come  forth 
bread  from  the  earth."  Then  breaking  the  bread,  He 
distributes  it  among  the  disciples,  bidding  them  bear 
it  to  the  people.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  moment  as  to 
the  exact  point  where  the  supernatural  came  in,  whether 
it  was  in  the  breaking  or  the  distributing.  Somewhere 
a  power  which  must  have  been  Divine  touched  the 
bread,  for  the  broken  pieces  strangely  grew,  enlarging 
rapidly  as  they  were  minished.  It  is  just  possible  that 
we  have  a  clue  to  the  mystery  in  the  tense  of  the  verb, 
for  the  imperfect,  which  denotes  continued  action,  would 
read.  "  He  brake,"  or  "  He  kept  on    breaking,"  from 


276  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

which  we  might  almost  infer  that  the  miracle  was 
coincident  with  the  touch.  But  whether  so  or  not,  the 
power  was  equal  to  the  occasion,  and  the  supply  over 
and  above  the  largest  need,  completely  satisfying  the 
hunger  of  the  five  thousand  men,  besides  the  off-group 
of  women  and  children,  who,  though  left  out  of  the 
enumeration,  were  within  the  circle  of  the  miracle,  the 
remembered  and  satisfied  guests  of  the  Master. 

It  now  remains  for  us  to  gather  up  the  meaning 
and  the  practical  lessons  of  the  miracle.  And  first, 
it  reveals  to  us  the  Divine  pity.  When  Jesus  called 
Himself  the  Son  of  man  it  was  a  title  full  of  deep 
meaning,  and  most  appropriate.  He  was  the  true,  the 
ideal  Humanity,  humanity  as  it  would  have  been  with- 
out the  warps  and  discolourations  that  Sin  has  made, 
and  within  His  heart  were  untold  depths  of  sympathy, 
the  ft fellow-feeling  that  makes  man  wondrous  kind." 
To  the  haughty  and  the  proud  He  was  stern,  lowering 
upon  them  with  a  withering  scorn  ;  to  the  unreal,  the 
false,  the  unclean  He  was  severity  itself,  with  light- 
nings in  His  looks  and  terrible  thunders  in  His 
"woes;"  but  for  troubled  and  tired  souls  He  had 
nothing  but  tenderness  and  gentleness,  and  a  compas- 
sion that  was  infinite.  Even  had  He  not  called  the 
weary  and  heavy-laden  to  Himself,  they  would  have 
sought  Him;  they  would  have  read  the  "Come"  in 
the  sunlight  of  His  face.  Jesus  felt  for  others  a 
vicarious  pain,  a  vicarious  sorrow,  His  heart  respond- 
ing to  it  at  once,  as  the  delicately  poised  needle 
responds  to  the  subtle  sparks  that  flash  in  upon  it 
from  without.  So  here;  He  receives  the  multitude 
kindly,  even  though  they  are  strangers,  and  though 
they  have  thwarted  His  purpose  and  broken  in  upon 
His  rest,  and  as  this  stream  of  human  life  flows  out 


ix.  1-17.]  THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  LOAVES.  277 

to  Him  His  compassion  flows  out  to  them.  He  com- 
miserates their  forlorn  condition,  wandering  like  stray- 
ing sheep  upon  the  mountains ;  He  gives  Himself  up 
to  them,  healing  all  that  were  sick,  assuaging  the  pain 
or  restoring  the  lost  sense ;  while  at  the  same  time  He 
ministers  to  a  higher  nature,  telling  them  of  the  king- 
dom of  God,  which  had  come  nigh  to  them,  and  which 
was  theirs  if  they  would  surrender  themselves  to  it  and 
obey.  Nor  was  even  this  enough  to  satisfy  the  prompt- 
ings of  His  deep  pity,  but  all-forgetful  of  His  own 
weariness,  He  lengthens  out  this  day  of  mercy,  stay- 
ing to  minister  to  their  lower,  physical  wants,  as  He 
spreads  for  them  a  table  in  the  wilderness.  Verily  He 
was,  incarnate,  as  He  is  in  His  glory,  "  touched  with 
the  feeling  of  our  infirmities." 

Again,  we  see  the  Divine  love  of  order  and  arrange- 
ment. Nothing  was  done  until  the  crowding  and  con- 
fusion had  ceased,  and  even  the  Divine  beneficence 
waits  until  the  turbulent  mass  has  become  quiet,  settled 
down  into  serried  lines,  the  five  thousand  making  two 
perfect  squares.  "  Order,"  it  is  said,  "  is  Heaven's 
first  law ; "  but  whether  the  first  or  the  second,  certain 
it  is  that  Heaven  gives  us  the  perfection  of  order.  It 
is  only  in  the  lawless  wills  of  man  that  "  time  is  broke, 
and  no  proportion  kept."  In  the  heavenly  state  nothing 
is  out  of  place  or  out  of  time.  All  wills  there  play  into 
each  other  with  such  absolute  precision  that  life  itself 
is  a  song,  a  Gloria  in  Excelsis.  And  how  this  is  seen 
in  all  the  works  of  God  I  What  rhythmic  motions  are 
in  the  marches  of  the  stars  and  the  processions  of  the 
seasons !  To  everything  a  place,  to  everything  a  time; 
such  is  the  unwritten  law  of  the  realm  of  physics,  where 
Law  is  supreme,  and  anarchy  is  unknown.  So  in  our 
earthly  lives,  on  their  secular  and  on  their  spiritual 


278  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 


side  alike,  order  is  time,  order  is  strength,  and  he  who 
is  deficient  in  this  grace  should  practise  on  it  the  more. 
Avoid  Slovenliness;  it  is  a  distant  relation  of  Sin  itself. 
Arrange  your  duties,  and  do  not  let  them  crowd  one 
upon  the  other.  Set  the  greater  duties,  not  abreast, 
but  one  behind  the  other,  filling  up  the  spaces  with  the 
smaller  ones.  Do  not  let  things  drift,  or  your  life, 
built  for  carrying  precious  argosies,  and  accomplishing 
something,  will  break  up  into  pieces,  the  flotsam  and 
jetsam  of  a  barren  shore.  In  prayer  be  orderly. 
Arrange  your  desires.  Let  some  come  first,  while 
others  stand  back  in  the  second  or  the  third  row,  wait- 
ing their  turn.  If  your  relations  with  your  fellows  have 
got  a  little  disarranged,  atwist,  seek  to  readjust  the 
disturbed  relation.  Oppose  what  is  evil  and  mean  with 
all  your  might ;  but  if  no  principle  is  involved,  even  at 
the  cost  of  a  little  feeling,  seek  to  have  things  put 
square.  To  get  things  into  a  tangle  requires  no  great 
skill ;  but  he  who  would  be  a  true  artist,  keeping  the 
Divine  pattern  before  him,  and  ever  working  towards 
it,  if  not  up  to  it,  may  reduce  the  tangled  skein  to 
harmony,  and  like  the  Gobelin  tapestry-makers,  weave 
a  life  that  is  noble  and  beautiful,  a  life  on  which  men 
will  love  to  gaze. 

Again,  we  see  the  Divine  concern  for  little  things. 
Abundance  always  tempts  to  extravagance  and  waste. 
And  so  here  ;  the  broken  remnants  of  the  repast  might 
have  been  thrown  away  as  of  no  account ;  but  Jesus 
bade  them,  "  Gather  up  the  fragments,  that  nothing  be 
lost ;  "  and  we  read  they  filled  with  the  broken  bread, 
which  remained  over  and  above  to  them  that  had  eaten, 
twelve  baskets  full — and,  by  the  way,  the  word  rendered 
"  basket "  here  corresponds  with  the  frugal  fare,  for, 
made  of  willow  or  of  wicker,  it  was  of  the  coarsest 


ix.  1-17  ]  THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  LOAVES.  279 

kind,  used  only  by  the  poor.  What  became  of  the 
fragments,  which  outweighed  the  original  supply,  we 
do  not  read  ;  but  though  they  were  only  the  crumbs  of 
the  Divine  bounty,  and  though  there  was  no  present 
use  for  them,  Jesus  would  not  allow  them  to  be  wasted. 
But  the  true  meaning  of  the  narrative  lies  deeper  than 
this.  It  is  a  miracle  of  a  new  order,  this  multiplying 
of  the  loaves.  In  His  other  miracles  Jesus  has  wrought 
on  the  line  of  Nature,  accelerating  her  slower  processes, 
and  accomplishing  in  an  instant,  by  His  mere  volition, 
what  by  natural  causes  must  have  been  the  work  of 
time,  but  which  in  the  specific  cases  would  have  been 
purely  impossible,  owing  to  the  enfeeblement  of  nature 
by  disease.  Sight,  hearing,  even  life  itself,  come  to 
man  through  channels  purely  natural;  but  Nature 
never  yet  has  made  bread.  She  grows  the  corn,  but 
there  her  part  ends,  while  Science  must  do  the  rest, 
first  reducing  the  corn  to  flour,  then  kneading  it  into 
dough,  and  by  the  burning  fires  of  the  oven  transmuting 
the  dough  to  bread.  Why  does  Jesus  here  depart 
from  His  usual  order,  creating  what  neither  nature  nor 
science  can  produce  alone,  but  which  requires  their  con- 
current forces  ?  Let  us  see.  To  Jesus  these  visible, 
tangible  things  were  but  the  dead  keys  His  hand 
touched,  as  He  called  forth  some  deeper,  farther-off 
music,  some  spiritual  truth  that  by  any  other  method 
men  would  be  slow  to  learn.  Of  what,  then,  is  this 
bread  of  the  desert  the  emblem  ?  St.  John  tells  us 
that  when  the  miracle  occurred  "  the  Passover  was 
nigh  at  hand,"  and  this  time-mark  helps  to  explain 
the  overcrowding  into  the  desert,  for  probably  many 
of  the  five  thousand  were  men  who  were  now  on  their 
way  to  Jerusalem,  and  who  had  stayed  at  Capernaum 
and  the  neighbouring  cities  for  the  night.     This  sup- 


28o  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

position,  too,  is  considerably  strengthened  by  th~  words 
of  the  disciples,  as  they  suggest  that  they  should  go 
and  "lodge"  in  the  neighbouring  cities  and  villages, 
which  word  implies  that  they  were  not  residents  of  that 
locality,  but  passing  strangers.  And  as  Jesus  cannot 
now  go  up  to  Jerusalem  to  the  feast,  He  gathers  the 
shepherdless  thousands  about  Him,  and  keeps  a  sort  of 
Passover  in  the  open  guest-chamber  of  the  mountain- 
side. That  such  was  the  thought  of  the  Master,  making 
it  an  anterior  sacrament,  is  evident  from  the  address 
Jesus  gave  the  following  day  at  Capernaum,  in  which 
He  passes,  by  a  natural  transition,  from  the  broken 
bread  with  which  He  satisfied  their  physical  hunger 
to  Himself  as  the  Bread  come  down  from  heaven,  the 
"  living  Bread  "  as  He  called  it,  which  was  His  flesh. 
There  is  thus  a  Eucharistic  meaning  in  the  miracle  of 
the  loaves,  and  this  northern  hill  signals  in  its  subtle 
correspondences  on  to  Jerusalem,  to  another  hill,  where 
His  body  was  bruised  and  broken  "  for  our  iniquities," 
and  His  blood  was  poured  out,  a  precious  oblation  for 
sin.  And  as  that  Blood  was  typified  by  the  wine  of 
the  first  miracle  at  Cana,  so  now  Jesus  completes  the 
prophetic  sacrament  by  the  miraculous  creation  of 
bread  from  the  five  seminal  loaves,  bread  which  He 
Himself  has  consecrated  to  the  holier  use,  as  the  visible 
emblem  of  that  Body  which  was  given  for  us,  men, 
women,  and  children  alike,  even  for  a  redeemed 
humanity.  Cana  and  the  desert-place  tnus  draw  near 
together,  while  both  look  across  to  Calvary;  and  as 
the  Church  keeps  now  her  Eucharistic  feast,  taking 
from  the  one  the  consecrated  bread,  and  from  the  other 
the  consecrated  wine,  she  shows  forth  the  Lord's  death 
« till  He  come." 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE   TRANSFIGURATION. 

THE  Transfiguration  of  Christ  marks  the  culmina- 
ting point  in  the  Divine  life ;  the  few  remaining 
months  are  a  rapid  descent  into  the  Valley  of  Sacrifice 
and  Death.  The  story  is  told  by  each  of  the  three 
Synoptists,  with  an  almost  equal  amount  of  detail,  and 
all  agree  as  to  the  time  when  it  occurred ;  for  though 
St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark  make  the  interval  six  days, 
while  St.  Luke  speaks  of  it  as  "about  eight,"  there  is 
no  real  disagreement ;  St.  Luke's  reckoning  is  inclusive. 
As  to  the  locality,  too,  they  all  agree,  though  in  a 
certain  indefinite  way.  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark 
leave  it  indeterminate,  simply  saying  that  it  was  "  a 
high  mountain,"  while  St.  Luke  calls  it  "  the  mountain." 
Tradition  has  long  localised  the  scene  upon  Mount 
Tabor,  but  evidently  she  has  read  off  her  bearings 
from  her  own  fancies,  rather  than  from  the  facts  of  the 
narrative.  To  say  nothing  of  the  distance  of  Mount 
Tabor  from  Csesarea  Philippi — which,  though  a  diffi- 
culty, is  not  an  insuperable  one,  since  it  might  easily 
be  covered  in  less  than  the  six  intervening  days — 
Tabor  is  but  one  of  the  group  of  heights  which  fringe 
the  Plain  of  Esdraelon,  and  so  one  to  which  the 
definite  article  would  not,  and  could  not,  be  applied. 
Besides,  Tabor  now  was  crowned  by  a  Roman  fortress, 


282  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

and  so  could  scarcely  be  said  to  be  "  apart "  from  the 
strifes  and  ways  of  men,  while  it  stood  within  the 
borders  of  Galilee,  whereas  St.  Mark,  by  implication, 
sets  his  "  high  mountain  "  outside  the  Galilean  bounds 
(ix.  30).  But  if  Tabor  fails  to  meet  the  requirements 
of  the  narrative,  Mount  Hermon  answers  them  exactly, 
throwing  its  spurs  close  up  to  Caesarea  Philippi,  while 
its  snow-crowned  peak  shone  out  pure  and  white  above 
the  lesser  heights  of  Galilee. 

It  is  not  an  unmeaning  coincidence  that  each  of  the 
Evangelists  should  introduce  his  narrative  with  the  same 
temporal  word,  "  after."  That  word  is  something  more 
than  a  connecting-link,  a  bridge  thrown  over  a  blank 
space  of  days ;  it  is  rather,  when  taken  in  connection 
with  the  preceding  narrative,  the  key  which  unlocks 
the  whole  meaning  and  mystery  of  the  Transfiguration. 
"  After  these  sayings,"  writes  St.  Luke.  What  sayings  ? 
Let  us  go  back  a  little,  and  see.  Jesus  had  asked  His 
disciples  as  to  the  drift  of  popular  opinion  about 
Himself,  and  had  drawn  from  Peter  the  memorable 
confession — that  first  Apostle's  Creed — "  Thou  art  the 
Christ  of  God."  Immediately,  however,  Jesus  leads 
down  their  minds  from  these  celestial  heights  to  the 
lowest  depths  of  degradation,  dishonour,  and  death,  as 
He  says,  "  The  Son  of  man  must  suffer  many  things, 
and  be  rejected  of  the  elders,  chief  priests,  and  scribes, 
and  be  killed,  and  the  third  day  be  raised  up."  Those 
words  shattered  their  bright  dream  at  once.  Like 
some  fearful  nightmare,  the  foreshadow  of  the  cross 
fell  upon  their  hearts,  filling  them  with  fear,  and  gloom, 
and  striking  down  hope,  and  courage,  yea,  even  faith 
itself.  It  would  almost  seem  as  if  the  disciples  were 
unnerved,  paralyzed  by  the  blow,  and  as  if  an  atrophy 
had  stolen   over  their  hearts   and  lips  alike  ;  for  the 


THE  TRANSFIGURATION.  283 

next  six  days  are  one  void  of  silence,  without  word  or 
deed,  as  far  as  the  records  show.  How  shall  their 
lost  hope  be  recalled,  or  courage  be  revived  ?  How 
shall  they  be  taught  that  death  does  not  end  all — 
that  the  enigma  was  true  of  Himself,  as  well  as  of 
them,  that  He  shall  find  His  life  by  losing  it  ?  The 
Transfiguration  is  the  answer. 

Taking  with  Him  Peter,  John,  and  James — the  three 
who  shall  yet  be  witnesses  of  His  agony — Jesus  retires 
to  the  mountain  height,  probably  intending,  as  our 
Evangelist  indicates,  to  spend  the  night  in  prayer. 
Keeping  the  midnight  watch  was  nothing  new  to  these 
disciples;  it  was  their  frequent  experience  upon  the 
Galilean  lake ;  but  now,  left  to  the  quiet  of  their  own 
thoughts,  and  with  none  of  the  excitements  of  the 
spoil  about  them,  they  yield  to  the  cravings  of  nature 
and  fall  asleep.  Awaking,  they  find  their  Master  still 
engaged  in  prayer,  all  oblivious  of  earthly  hours,  and 
as  they  watch  He  is  transfigured  before  them.  The 
fashion,  or  appearance,  of  His  countenance,  as  St.  Luke 
tersely  puts  it,  "  became  another,"  all  suffused  with  a 
heavenly  radiance,  while  His  very  garments  became 
lustrous  with  a  whiteness  which  was  beyond  the 
fuller's  art  and  beyond  the  whiteness  of  the  snow,  and 
all  iridescent,  flashing  and  sparkling  as  if  set  with 
stars.  Suddenly,  ere  their  eyes  have  grown  accustomed 
to  the  new  splendours,  two  celestial  visitants  appear, 
wearing  the  glorious  body  of  the  heavenly  life  and 
conversing  with  Jesus. 

Such  was  the  scene  upon  the  "  holy  mount,"  which 
the  Apostles  could  never  forget,  and  which  St.  Peter 
recalls  with  a  lingering  wonder  and  delight  in  the  far- 
off  after-years  (2  Pet.  i.  18).  Can  we  push  aside  the 
outward  draperies,  and  read    the  Divine  thought  and 


284  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

purpose  that  are  hidden  within  ?     We  think  we  may. 
And— 

I.  We  see  the  place  and  meaning  of  the  Transfigura- 
tion in  the  life  of  Jesus.  Hitherto  the  humanity  of  jesus 
had  been  naturally  and  perfectly  human;  for  though 
heavenly  signs  have,  as  at  the  Advent  and  the  Baptism, 
borne  witness  to  its  super-humanity,  these  signs  have 
been  temporary  and  external,  shining  or  alighting  upon 
it  from  without.  Now,  however,  the  sign  is  from  within. 
The  brightness  of  the  outer  flesh  is  but  the  outshining 
of  the  inner  glory.  And  what  was  that  glory  but  the 
"  glory  of  the  Lord,"  a  manifestation  of  the  Deity, 
that  fulness  of  the  Godhead  which  dwelt  within  ?  The 
faces  of  other  sons  of  men  have  shone,  as  when  Moses 
stepped  downwards  from  the  mount,  or  as  Stephen 
looked  upwards  to  the  opened  heavens  ;  but  it  was  the 
shining  of  a  reflected  glory,  like  the  sunlight  upon  the 
moon.  But  w7hen  the  humanity  of  Jesus  was  thus 
transfigured  it  was  a  native  glory,  the  inward  radiance 
of  the  soul  stealing  through,  and  lighting  up,  the  en- 
veloping globe  of  human  flesh.  It  is  easy  to  see  why 
this  celestial  appearance  should  not  be  the  normal 
manifestation  of  the  Christ ;  for  had  it  been,  He  would 
no  longer  have  been  the  "Son  of  man."  Between 
Himself  and  the  humanity  He  had  come  to  redeem 
would  have  been  a  gulf  wide  and  profound,  while 
the  Fatherhood  of  God  would  have  been  a  truth  lying 
back  in  the  vistas  of  the  unknown,  a  truth  unfelt ;  for 
men  only  reach  up  to  that  Fatherhood  through  the 
Brotherhood  of  Christ.  But  if  we  ask  why  now,  just 
for  once,  there  should  be  this  transfiguring  of  the  Person 
of  Jesus,  the  answer  is  not  so  evident.  Gcdet  has  a 
suggestion  which  is  as  natural  as  it  is  beautiful.  He 
represents  the  Transfiguration  as  the  natural  issue  of 


THE  TRANSFIGURATION,  283 

a  perfect,  a  sinless  life,  a  life  in  which  death  should 
have  no  place,  as  it  would  have  had  no  place  in  the 
life  of  unfallen  man.  Innocence,  holiness,  glory — 
these  would  have  been  the  successive  steps  connecting 
earth  with  heaven,  an  ever-upward  path,  across  which 
death  would  not  even  have  cast  a  shadow.  Such 
would  have  been  the  path  opened  to  the  first  Adam, 
had  not  Sin  intervened,  bringing  Death  as  its  wage 
and  penalty.  And  now,  as  the  Second  Adam  takes 
the  place  of  the  first,  moving  steadily  along  the  path 
of  obedience  from  which  the  first  Adam  swerved, 
should  we  not  naturally  look  for  that  life  to  end  in  some 
translation  or  transfiguration,  the  body  of  the  earthly 
life  blossoming  into  the  body  of  the  heavenly  ?  and 
where  else  so  appropriately  as  here,  upon  the  "holy 
mount,"  when  the  spirits  of  the  perfected  come  forth 
to  meet  Him,  and  the  chariot  of  cloud  is  ready  to  convey 
Him  to  the  heavens  which  are  so  near?  It  is  thus 
something  more  than  conjecture — it  is  a  probability — that 
had  the  life  of  Jesus  been  by  itself,  detached  from  man- 
kind in  general,  the  Transfiguration  had  been  the  mode 
and  the  beginning  of  the  glorification.  The  way  to  the 
heavens,  from  which  He  was  self-exiled,  was  open  to 
Him  from  the  mount  of  glory,  but  He  preferred  to  pass 
up  by  the  mount  of  passion  and  of  sacrifice.  The 
burden  of  the  world's  redemption  is  upon  Him,  and 
that  eternal  purpose  leads  Him  down  from  the  Trans- 
figuration glories,  and  onwards  to  a  cross  and  grave. 
He  chooses  to  die,  with  and  for  man,  rather  than  to  live 
and  reign  without  man. 

But  not  only  does  the  "  holy  mount  "  throw  its  light 
on  what  would  have  been  the  path  of  unfallen  man,  it 
gives  us  in  prophecy  a  vision  of  the  resurrection  life. 
Compare  the   picture   of  the   transfigured    Christ,    as 


286  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST  LUKE. 

drawn  by  the  Synoptists,  with  the  picture,  drawn  by 
John  himself,  of  the  Christ  of  the  Exaltation,  and  how 
strikingly  similar  they  are!  (Rev.  i.  13-17).  In  both 
descriptions  we  have  an  affluence  of  metaphor  and 
simile,  which  affluence  was  itself  but  the  stammering 
of  cur  weak  human  speech,  as  it  seeks  to  tell  the 
unutterable.  In  both  we  have  a  whiteness  like  the 
snow,  while  to  portray  the  countenance  St.  John  re- 
peats almost  verbatim  St.  Matthew's  words,  "  His  face 
did  shine  as  the  sun."  Evidently  the  Christ  of  the 
Transfiguration  and  the  Christ  of  the  Exaltation  are 
one  and  the  same  Person  ;  and  why  do  we  blame  Peter 
for  speaking  in  such  random,  delirious  words  upon  the 
mount,  when  John,  by  the  glory  of  that  same  vision,  in 
Patmos,  is  stricken  to  the  ground  as  if  dead,  not  able 
to  speak  at  all  ?  When  Peter  spoke,  somewhat  inco- 
herently, about  the  "  three  tabernacles,"  it  was  not,  as 
some  aver,  the  random  speech  of  one  who  was  but  half 
awake,  but  of  one  whose  reason  was  dazzled  and  con- 
fused with  the  blinding  glory.  And  so  the  Transfigura- 
tion anticipates  the  Glorification,  investing  the  sacred 
Person  with  those  same  robes  of  light  and  royalty  He 
had  laid  aside  for  a  time,  but  which  He  will  shortly 
assume  again — the  habiliments  of  an  eternal  re- 
enthronement 

2.  Again,  the  holy  mount  shows  us  the  place  of 
death  in  the  life  of  man.  We  read,  "  There  talked  with 
Him  two  men,  which  were  Moses  and  Elijah ; "  and  as 
if  the  Evangelist  would  emphasize  the  fact  that  it  was 
no  apparition,  existing  only  in  their  heated  imagination, 
he  repeats  the  statement  (ver.  35)  that  they  were  "two 
men."  Strange  gathering — Moses,  Elias,  and  Christ ! — 
the  Law  in  the  person  of  Moses,  the  Prophets  in  the 
person  of  Elias,  both  doing  homage  to  the  Christ,  who 


THE  TRANSFIGURATION.  287 

was  Himself  the  fulfilment  of  prophecy  and  law.  But 
what  the  Evangelist  seems  to  note  particularly  is  the 
humanness  of  the  two  celestials.  Though  the  earthly 
life  of  each  ended  in  an  abrupt,  unearthly  way,  the  one 
having  a  translation,  the  other  a  Divine  interment 
(whatever  that  may  mean),  they  have  both  been  resi- 
dents of  the  heavenly  world  for  centuries.  But  as  they 
appear  to-day  "  in  glory,"  that  is,  with  the  glorified 
body  of  the  heavenly  life,  outwardly,  visibly,  their 
bodies  are  still  human.  There  is  nothing  about  their 
form  and  build  that  is  grotesque,  or  even  unearthly. 
They  have  not  even  the  traditional  but  fictitious  wings 
with  which  poetry  is  wont  to  set  off  the  inhabitants  of 
the  sky.  They  are  still  "  men,"  with  bodies  resembling, 
both  in  size  and  form,  the  old  body  of  earth.  But  if  the 
appearance  of  these  "  men  "  reminds  us  of  earth,  if  we 
wait  awhile,  we  see  that  their  natures  are  very  unearthly, 
not  unnatural  so  much  as  supernatural.  They  glide 
down  through  the  air  with  the  ease  of  a  bird  and  the 
swiftness  of  light,  and  when  the  interview  ends,  and 
they  go  their  separate  ways,  these  heavenly  "men" 
gather  up  their  robes  and  vanish,  strangely  and  sud- 
denly as  they  came.  And  yet  they  can  make  use  of 
earthly  supports,  even  the  grosser  forms  of  matter, 
planting  their  feet  upon  the  grass  as  naturally  as 
when  Moses  climbed  up  Pisgah  or  as  Elijah  stood  in 
Horeb's  cave. 

And  not  only  do  the  bodies  of  these  celestials  retain 
still  the  image  of  the  earthly  life,  but  the  bent  of  their 
minds  is  the  same,  the  set  and  drift  of  their  thoughts 
following  the  old  directions.  The  earthly  lives  of  Moses 
and  Elias  had  been  spent  in  different  lands,  in  different 
times;  five  hundred  eventful  years  pushed  them  far 
apart;   but  their  mission  had  been   one.     Both  were 


288  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

prophets  of  the  Highest,  the  one  bringing  God's  law 
down  to  the  people,  the  other  leading  a  lapsed  people 
back  and  up  to  Gcd's  law.  Yes,  and  they  are  prophets 
still,  but  with  a  nearer  vision  now.  No  longer  do  they 
gaze  through  the  crimson  lenses  of  the  sacrificial 
blood,  beholding  the  Promised  One  afar  off.  They 
have  read  the  Divine  thought  and  purpose  of  redemp- 
tion ;  they  are  initiated  into  its  mysteries ;  and  now 
that  the  cross  is  close  at  hand,  they  come  to  bring 
to  the  world's  Saviour  their  heavenly  greetings,  and  to 
invest  Him,  by  anticipation,  with  robes  of  glory,  soon 
to  be  His  for  evermore. 

Such  is  the  apocalypse  of  the  holy  mount.  The 
veil  which  hides  from  our  dull  eye  of  sense  the  here- 
after was  lifted  up.  The  heavens  were  opened  to  them, 
no  longer  far  away  beyond  the  cold  stars,  but  near 
them,  touching  them  on  every  side.  They  saw  the 
saints  of  other  days  interesting  themselves  in  earthly 
events — in  one  event  at  least,  and  speaking  of  that 
death  which  they  mourned  and  feared,  calmly,  as  a 
thing  expected  and  desired,  but  calling  it  by  its  new 
and  softened  name,  a  "departure,"  an  "exodus."  And 
as  they  see  the  past  centuries  saluting  Him  whom  they 
have  learned  to  call  the  Christ,  "  the  Son  of  God,"  as 
the  truth  of  immortality  is  borne  in  upon  them,  not  as 
a  vague  conception  of  the  mind,  but  by  oral  and  ocular 
demonstration,  would  they  not  see  the  shadow  of  the 
coming  death  in  a  different  light  ?  would  not  the  painful 
pressure  upon  their  spirits  be  eased  somewhat,  if  not, 
indeed,  entirely  removed  ?  and— 

*  The  Apostles'  heart  of  rock 
Be  nerved  against  temptation's  shock  "  ? 

Would  they  not  more  patiently  endure,  now  that  they 


THE  TRANSFIGURATION.  289 

had  become  apostles  of  the  Invisible,  seers  of  the 
Unseen  ? 

But  if  the  glory  of  the  holy  mount  sets  in  a  fairer 
light  the  cross  and  grave  of  Christ,  may  we  not  throw 
from  the  mirror  of  our  thought  some  of  its  light  upon 
our  lowlier  graves  ?  What  is  death,  after  all,  but  the 
transition  into  life  ?  Retaining  its  earthly  accent,  we 
call  it  a  "  decease  ; "  but  that  is  true  only  of  the  corporeal 
nature,  that  body  of  "  flesh  and  blood  "  which  cannot 
inherit  the  higher  kingdom  of  glory  to  which  we  pass. 
There  is  no  break  in  the  continuity  of  the  soul's  exis- 
tence, not  even  one  parenthetic  hour.  When  He  who 
was  the  Resurrection  and  t^e  Life  said,  "  To-day  shalt 
thou  be  with  Me  in  paradise,''  that  word  passed  on  a 
forgiven  soul  directly  to  a  state  of  conscious  blessed- 
ness. From  "  the  azure  deep  of  air "  does  the  eagle 
look  regretfully  upon  the  eyrie  of  its  crag,  where  it  lay 
in  its  unfledged  weakness  ?  or  does  it  mourn  the  broken 
shell  from  which  its  young  life  emerged  ?  And  why 
should  we  mourn,  or  weep  with  unrestrained  tears, 
when  the  shell  is  broken  that  the  freed  spirit  may  soar 
up  to  the  regions  of  the  blessed,  and  range  the  eterni- 
ties of  God  ?  Paganism  closed  the  story  of  human 
life  with  an  interrogation-point,  and  sought  to  fill  up 
with  guesses  the  blank  she  did  not  know.  Christianity 
speaks  with  clearer  voice ;  hers  is  "  a  sure  and  certain 
hope,"  for  He  who  u  hath  abolished  death"  hath 
"  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light."  Earth's  exodus 
is  heaven's  genesis,  and  what  we  call  the  end  celestials 
call  the  beginning. 

And  not  only  does  the  mount  speak  of  the  certainties 
of  the  after-life,  it  gives,  in  a  binocular  vision,  the 
likeness  of  the  resurrection  body,  answering,  in  part, 
the  standing  question,  "  How  are  the  dead  raised  up  ?" 

19 


290  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.   LUKE. 

The  body  of  the  heavenly  life  must  have  some  corre- 
spondence with,  and  resemblance  to,  the  body  of  our 
earthly  life.  It  will,  in  a  sense,  grow  out  of  it.  It 
will  not  be  something  entirely  new,  but  the  old  refined, 
spiritualized,  the  dross  and  earthliness  all  removed, 
the  marks  of  care,  and  pain,  and  sin  all  wiped  out.  And 
more,  the  Transfiguration  mount  gives  us  indubitable 
proof  that  heaven  and  earth  lie,  virtually,  close  together, 
and  that  the  so-called  "  departed "  are  not  entirely 
severed  from  earthly  things ;  they  can  still  read  the 
shadows  upon  earthly  dials,  and  hear  the  strike  of 
earthly  hours.  They  are  not  so  absorbed  and  lost  in 
the  new  glories  as  to  take  no  note  of  earthly  events ; 
nor  are  they  restrained  from  visiting,  at  permitted 
times,  the  earth  they  have  not  wholly  left ;  for  as  heaven 
was  theirs,  when  on  earth,  in  hope  and  anticipation, 
so  now,  in  heaven,  earth  is  theirs  in  thought  and 
memory.  They  have  still  interests  here,  associations 
they  cannot  forget,  friends  who  are  still  beloved,  and 
harvests  of  influence  they  still  may  reap.  With  the 
absurdities  and  follies  of  so-called  Spiritualism  we  have 
no  sort  of  sympathy ;  they  are  the  vagaries  of  weak 
minds ;  but  even  their  eccentricities  and  excesses  shall 
not  be  allowed  to  rob  us  of  what  is  a  truly  Christian 
hope,  that  they  who  cared  for  us  on  earth  care  for  us 
still,  and  that  they  who  loved  and  prayed  for  us  below 
love  us  none  the  less,  and  pray  for  us  none  the  less 
frequently,  now  that  the  conflict  with  them  is  over, 
and  the  eternal  rest  begun.  And  why  may  not  their 
spirits  touch  ours,  influencing  our  mind  and  heart,  even 
when  we  are  not  conscious  whence  those  influences 
come  ?  for  are  they  not,  with  the  angels,  "  ministering 
spirits,  sent  forth  to  do  service  for  the  sake  of  them 
that  shall  inherit  salvation  "  ?    The  Mount  of  Trans- 


THE   TRANSFIGURATION.  291 

figuration  does  indeed  stand  "  apart/'  for  on  its  summit 
the  paths  of  the  celestials  and  of  the  terrestrials  meet 
and  merge ;  and  it  is  "  high "  indeed,  for  it  touches 
heaven. 

3.  Again,  the  holy  mount  shows  us  the  place  of 
death  in  the  life  of  Jesus.  How  long  the  vision  lasted 
we  cannot  tell,  but  in  all  probability  the  interview  was 
but  brief.  What  supreme  moments  they  were !  and 
what  a  rush  of  tumultuous  thoughts,  we  may  suppose, 
would  fill  the  minds  of  the  two  saints,  as  they  stand 
again  on  the  familiar  earth  !  But  listen  !  They  speak 
no  word  to  revive  the  old-time  memories ;  they  bring 
no  tidings  of  the  heavenly  world  ;  they  do  not  even 
ask,  as  they  well  might,  the  thousand  questions  con- 
cerning His  life  and  ministry.  They  think,  they  speak, 
of  one  thing  only,  the  "  decease  which  He  was  about 
to  accomplish  at  Jerusalem."  Here,  then,  we  see  the 
drift  of  heavenly  minds,  and  here  we  learn  a  truth 
which  is  wonderfully  true,  that  the  death  of  Jesus,  the 
cross  of  Jesus,  was  the  one  central  thought  of  heaven, 
as  it  is  the  one  central  hope  of  earth.  But  how  can  it 
be  such  if  the  life  of  Jesus  is  all  we  need,  and  if  the 
death  is  but  an  ordinary  death,  an  appendix,  necessary 
indeed,  but  unimportant  ?  Such  is  the  belief  of  some, 
but  such  certainly  is  not  the  teaching  of  this  narrative, 
nor  of  the  other  Scriptures.  Heaven  sets  the  cross  of 
Jesus  "in  the  midst,"  the  one  central  fact  of  history. 
He  was  born  that  He  might  die ;  He  lived  that  He 
might  die.  All  the  lines  of  His  human  life  converge 
upon  Calvary,  as  He  Himself  said,  "For  unto  this 
hour  came  I  into  the  world."  And  why  is  that  death 
so  all-important,  bending  towards  its  cross  all  the  lines 
of  Scripture,  as  it  now  monopolizes  the  speech  of  these 
two    celestials  ?     Why  ?     There   is   but    one   answer 


292  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST    LUKE. 

which  is  satisfactory,  the  answer  St.  Peter  himself 
gives  :  "  His  own  Self  bare  our  sins  in  His  body  upon 
the  tree,  that  we,  having  died  unto  sins,  might  live  unto 
righteousness  "  (i  Pet.  ii.  24).  And  so  the  Mount  of 
Transfiguration  looks  towards  the  Mount  of  Sacrifice. 
It  lights  up  Calvary,  and  lays  a  wreath  of  glory  upon 
the  cross. 

We  need  not  speak  again  of  Peter's  random  words, 
as  he  seeks  to  detain  the  celestial  visitants.  He  would 
fain  prolong  what  to  him  is  a  Feast  of  Tabernacles, 
and  he  suggests  the  building  of  three  booths  upon 
the  mountain  slope — u  one  for  Thee,"  putting  his  Lord 
first,  "and  one  for  Moses,  and  one  for  Elias."  He 
makes  no  mention  of  himself  or  of  his  companions. 
He  is  content  to  remain  outside,  so  that  he  may  only 
be  near,  as  it  were  on  the  fringe  of  the  transfiguring 
glories.  But  what  a  strange  request !  what  wander- 
ing, delirious  words,  almost  enough  to  make  celestials 
smile !  Well  might  the  Evangelist  excuse  Peter's 
random  words  by  saying,  "  Not  knowing  what  he  said." 
But  if  Peter  gets  no  answer  to  his  request,  and  if  he  is 
not  permitted  to  build  the  tabernacles,  Heaven  spreads 
over  the  group  its  canopy  of  cloud,  that  Shekinah- 
cloud  whose  very  shadow  was  brightness ;  while  once 
again,  as  at  the  Baptism,  a  Voice  speaks  out  of  the 
cloud,  the  voice  of  the  Father :  "  This  is  My  Son,  My 
Chosen ;  hear  ye  Him."  And  so  the  mountain  pageant 
fades ;  for  when  the  cloud  has  passed  away  Moses  and 
Elias  have  disappeared,  "Jesus  only"  is  left  with  the 
three  disciples.  Then  they  retrace  their  steps  down 
the  mountain  side,  the  three  carrying  in  their  heart  a 
precious  memory,  the  strains  of  a  lingering  music, 
which  they  only  put  into  words  when  the  Son  of  man 
is  risen  from  the  dead;  while  Jesus  turns,  not  reluc- 


THE  TRANSFIGURATION. 


293 


tantly,  from  the  opened  door  and  the  welcome  of 
Heaven,  to  make  an  atonement  upon  Calvary,  and 
through  the  veil  of  His  rent  flesh  to  make  a  way  for 
sinful  man  even  into  the  Holiest. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   GOOD  SAMARITAN. 
Luke  x.  25-37. 

IT  would  scarcely  have  accorded  with  the  traditions 
of  human  nature  had  the  teachers  of  religion  looked 
favourably  upon  Jesus.  Stepping,  as  He  did,  within 
their  domain,  without  any  human  ordination  or  scho- 
lastic authority,  they  naturally  resented  the  intrusion, 
and  when  the  teaching  of  the  new  Rabbi  so  distinctly 
contravened  their  own  interpretation  of  the  law  their 
curiosity  deepened  into  jealousy,  and  curdled  at  last 
into  a  virulent  hate.  The  ecclesiastical  atmosphere 
was  charged  with  electricity,  but  it  only  manifested 
itself  at  first  in  the  harmless  play  of  summer  lightning, 
the  cross-fire  of  half-earnest  and  half-captious  ques- 
tions; later  it  was  the  forked  lightning  that  struck 
him  down  into  a  grave. 

We  have  no  means  of  localizing,  either  in  point  of 
time  or  place,  the  incident  here  recorded  by  our  Evan- 
gelist, and  which,  by  the  way,  only  St.  Luke  mentions. 
It  stands  by  itself,  bearing  in  its  dependent  parable  of 
the  Good  Samaritan  an  exquisite  and  perfect  flower, 
from  whose  deep  cup  has  dropped  the  very  nectar  of 
the  gods. 

It  was  probably  during  one  of  His  public  discourses 
that  a  "  certain  lawyer,"  or  scribe — for  the  two  titles 


x.  25-37-]  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  295 

are  used  interchangeably — "stood  up  and  tempted 
Him."  He  sought  to  prove  Him  by  questions,  as  the 
word  means  here,  hoping  to  entrap  Jesus  amid  the 
vagaries  of  Rabbinical  tradition.  "  Teacher/'  said  he, 
hiding  his  sinister  motive  behind  a  veil  of  courtesy  and 
apparent  candour,  "what  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal 
life  ? "  Had  the  question  been  sincere,  Jesus  would 
probably  have  given  a  direct  answer;  but  reading  the 
under-current  of  his  thought,  which  moved  transversely  to 
the  surface-current  of  his  speech,  Jesus  simply  answered 
his  question  b}'  asking  another  :  "  What  is  written  in  the 
Law?  How  readest  thou?"  With  a  readiness  which 
implied  a  perfect  familiarity  with  the  Law,  he  replied, 
"Thou  shait  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart, 
and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  and  with 
all  thy  mind;  and  thy  neighbour  as  tlryself."  Some 
expositors  have  thought  that  the  Evangelist  here  gives 
the  summary  of  what  was  a  lengthened  conversation, 
and  that  Jesus  Himself  led  the  mind  of  the  lawyer  to 
join  together  these  detached  portions  of  Scripture — one 
from  Deuteronomy  vi.  5,  and  the  other  from  Leviticus 
xix.  1 8.  It  is  true  there  is  a  striking  resemblance  between 
the  answer  of  the  lawyer  and  the  answer  Jesus  Himself 
gave  subsequently  to  a  similar  question  (Mark  xii.  30, 
31);  but  there  is  no  necessity  for  us  to  apologize  for 
the  resemblance,  as  if  it  were  improbable  and  unnatural. 
The  fact  is,  as  the  narrative  of  Mark  xii.  plainly  indi- 
cates, that  these  two  sentences  were  held  in  general 
consent  as  the  epitome  of  the  Law,  its  first  and  its 
second  commandment.  Even  the  scribe  assents  to  this 
as  an  axiomatic  truth  he  has  no  wish  to  challenge.  It 
will  be  observed  that  a  fourth  term  is  added  to  the  three 
of  the  original,  possibly  on  account  of  the  Septuagint 
rendering,  which  translated  the  Hebrew  "heart"  by 


296  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

"mind."  Godet  suggests  that  since  the  term  "heart" 
is  the  most  general  term,  denoting  "in  Scripture  the 
central  focus  from  which  all  the  rays  of  the  moral  life 
go  forth,"  that  it  stands  in  apposition  to  the  other  three, 
the  one  in  its  three  particulars.  This,  which  is  the  most 
natural  interpretation,  would  refer  the  "  mind "  to  the 
intellectual  faculties,  the  "  soul "  to  the  emotional  facul- 
ties, the  sensibilities,  and  the  "  might "  to  the  will,  which 
rules  all  force ;  while  by  the  "  heart "  is  meant  the  unit, 
the  "  centred  self,"  into  which  the  others  merge,  and  of 
which  they  form  a  part. 

Jesus  commended  him  for  his  answer :  "  Thou  hast 
answered  right :  this  do,  and  thou  shalt  live  " — words 
which  brushed  away  completely  the  Hebraic  figment  of 
inherited  life.  That  life  was  not  something  that  should 
be  reached  by  processes  of  loving.  The  life  should 
precede  the  love,  and  should  give  birth  to  it :  the  love 
should  grow  out  of  the  life,  its  blossoming  flower. 

Having  the  tables  so  turned  upom  himself,  and 
wishing  to  "justify,"  or  to  put  himself  right,  the 
stranger  asks  still  another  question  :  "And  who  is  my 
neighbour?"  doubtless  hoping  to  cover  his  retreat  in 
the  smoke  of  a  burning  question.  To  our  minds,  made 
familiar  with  the  thought  of  humanity,  it  seems  as  if  a 
question  so  simple  scarcely  deserved  such  an  elaborate 
answer  as  Jesus  gave  to  it.  But  the  thought  of  humanity 
had  not  yet  possessed  the  world ;  indeed,  it  had  only 
just  come  to  earth,  to  be  spoken  by,  and  incarnate 
in,  Him  who  was  the  Son  of  man.  To  the  Jew  the 
question  of  the  lawyer  was  a  most  important  one.  The 
word  "neighbour"  could  be  spoken  in  a  breath;  but 
unwind  that  word,  and  it  measures  off  the  whole  of  our 
earthly  life,  it  covers  all  our  practical,  every-day  duties. 
It  ran  through  the  pages  of  the  Law,  the  ark  in  which 


*  25-37-]  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  297 

the  Golden  Rule  was  hidden ;  or  like  a  silent  angel,  it 
flashed  its  sword  across  life's  forbidden  paths.  But  if 
the  Jew  could  not  erase  this  broad  word  from  the  pages 
of  the  Law,  he  could  narrow  and  emasculate  its  meaning 
by  an  interpretation  of  his  own.  And  this  they  had 
done,  making  this  Divine  word  almost  of  none  effect  by 
their  tradition.  To  the  Jewish  mind  "  neighbour  "  was 
simply  "Jew"  spelt  large.  The  only  neighbourhood 
they  recognized  was  the  narrow  neighbourhood  of 
Hebrew  speech  and  Hebrew  sympathies.  The  Hebrew 
mind  was  isolated  as  their  land,  and  all  who  could  not 
frame  their  Shibboleths  were  barbarians,  Gentiles,  whom 
they  were  at  perfect  liberty  to  spoil,  as  with  anathe- 
mas and  swords  they  chased  them  over  their  Jordans. 
Jesus,  however,  is  on  the  alert;  and  how  wisely  He 
answers  !  He  does  not  declaim  against  the  narrowness 
of  Hebrew  thought ;  He  utters  no  denunciatory  word 
against  their  proud  and  false  exclusiveness.  He  quietly 
unfolds  the  word,  spreading  it  out  into  an  exquisite 
parable,  that  all  coming  times  may  see  how  beautiful, 
how  Divine  the  word  "  neighbour  "  is. 

He  said,  "A  certain  man  was  going  down  from 
Jerusalem  to  Jericho;  and  he  fell  among  robbers, 
which  both  stripped  him,  and  beat  him,  and  departed, 
leaving  him  half  dead."  The  parables  of  Jesus,  though 
drawn  from  real  life,  had  no  local  colouring.  They 
grouped  themselves  around  some  well-known  fact  of 
nature,  or  some  general  custom  of  social  life ;  and  so 
their  spirit  was  national  or  cosmopolitan,  rather  than 
local.  Here,  however,  Jesus  departs  from  His  usual 
manner,  giving  to  His  parable  a  local  habitation.  It  is 
the  road  which  led  steeply  down  from  Jerusalem  to 
Jericho,  and  which  for  centuries  has  been  so  infested 
with  robbers  or  bandits  as  to  earn  for  itself  the  darkly 


298  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

ominous  name  of  "the  Bloody  Way."  Possibly  that 
name  itself  is  an  outgrowth  from  the  parable;  but  whether 
so  or  not,  it  is  scarcely  to  be  supposed  that  it  had  so 
evil  a  character  in  the  days  of  Christ.  As  Jericho  then 
was  a  populous  city,  and  intimately  connected  with 
Jerusalem  in  its  social  and  business  life,  the  road  would 
be  much  frequented.  Indeed,  the  parable  indicates  as 
much;  for  Jesus,  whose  words  were  never  untrue  to 
nature  or  to  history,  represents  His  three  travellers  as 
all  journeying  singly ;  while  the  khan  or  "  inn  "  shows, 
in  its  reflection,  a  constant  stream  of  travel.  Our 
anonymous  traveller,  however,  does  not  find  it  so  safe 
as  he  had  anticipated.  Attacked,  in  one  of  its  dusky 
ravines,  by  a  band  of  brigands,  they  strip  him  of  his 
clothing,  with  whatever  the  girdle-purse  might  contain, 
and  beating  him  out  of  sheer  devilry,  they  leave  him  by 
the  road-side,  unable  to  walk,  unable  even  to  rise,  a 
living-dying  man. 

"And  by  chance,  a  certain  priest  was  going  down 
that  way ;  and  when  he  saw  him  he  passed  by  on  the 
other  side.  And  in  like  manner  a  Levite  also,  when 
he  came  to  the  place  and  saw  him,  passed  by  on  the 
other  side."  As  in  a  tableaux  vivants,  Jesus  shows  us 
the  two  ecclesiastics,  who  come  in  sight  in  the  happy, 
coincidental  way  that  Romance  so  delights  in.  They 
had  probably  just  completed  their  "course"  of  Temple 
service,  and  were  now  going  down  to  Jericho,  which 
was  a  favourite  residence  of  the  priests,  for  the  somewhat 
long  interval  their  sacred  duties  allowed  them.  They 
had,  therefore,  no  pressure  of  business  upon  them ; 
indeed,  the  verb  wrould  almost  imply  that  the  priest 
was  walking  leisurely  along.  But  they  bring  no  help 
to  the  wounded  man.  Directly  they  see  him,  instead 
of  being  drawn  to  him  by  the  attractions  of  sympathy, 


x.  25-37-3  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  299 

something,  either  the  shock  or  the  fright,  acts  upon 
them  as  a  centrifugal  force,  and  sends  them  describing 
an  arc  of  a  circle  around  that  centre  of  groans  and 
blood.  At  any  rate  the}'  "  passed  by  on  the  other 
side,"  leaving  behind  them  neither  deed  nor  word  of 
mercy,  but  leaving  behind  them  a  shadow  of  them- 
selves which,  while  time  itself  lasts,  will  be  vivid,  cold, 
and  repelling.  It  is  just  possible,  however,  that  they 
do  not  deserve  all  the  unmeasured  censure  which  the 
critics  and  the  centuries  have  given,  and  are  still  likely 
to  give.  It  is  very  easy  for  us  to  condemn  their  action 
as  selfish,  heartless ;  but  let  us  put  ourselves  in  their 
place,  alone  in  the  lonely  pass,  with  this  proof  of  an 
imminent  danger  sprung  suddenly  upon  us,  and  it  is 
possible  that  we  ourselves  should  not  have  been  quite 
so  brave  as  by  our  safe  firesides  we  imagine  ourselves 
to  be.  The  fact  is  it  needed  something  more  than 
sympathy  to  make  them  turn  aside  and  befriend  the 
wounded  man  ;  it  needed  physical  courage,  and  that 
of  the  highest  kind,  and  this  wanting,  sjanpathy  itself 
would  not  be  sufficient.  The  heart  might  long  to  help, 
even  when  the  feet  were  hastening  away.  A  sudden 
inrush  of  fear,  even  of  vague  alarm,  will  sometimes 
drive  us  contrary  to  the  drift  of  our  sympathies,  just 
as  our  feet  are  lifted  and  we  ourselves  carried  onwards 
by  a  surging  crowd. 

Whether  this  be  a  correct  interpretation  of  their  con- 
duct or  not,  it  certainly  harmonizes  with  the  general 
attitude  of  Jesus  towards  the  priesthood.  The  chief 
priests  were  always  and  bitterly  hostile,  but  we  have 
reasonable  ground  for  supposing  that  the  priests,  as 
a  body,  looked  favouringly  upon  Jesus.  The  bolts  of 
terrible  °  woes "  are  hurled  against  Pharisees  and 
scribes,  yet  Jesus  does  not  condemn  the  priests  in  a 


300  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

single  word ;  while  in  that  aftermath  of  the  Pentecost 
the  Temple  courts  yielded  the  richest  harvests,  as  "a 
great  company  of  the  priests  were  obedient  to  the 
faith."  If,  then,  Jesus  now  holds  up  the  priesthood  to 
execration,  setting  these  ecclesiastics  in  the  pillory  of 
His  parable,  that  the  coming  centuries  may  throw  sharp 
words  at  them,  it  is  certainly  an  exceptional  mood. 
The  sweet  silence  has  curdled  into  acrid  speech.  But 
even  here  Jesus  does  not  condemn,  except,  as  it  would 
seem,  by  implication,  the  conduct  of  the  priest  and 
Levite.  They  come  into  the  parable  rather  as  acces- 
sories, and  Jesus  makes  use  of  them  as  a  foil,  to 
throw  out  into  bolder  relief  the  central  figure,  which 
is  the  Samaritan,  and  so  to  emphasize  His  central  truth, 
which  is  the  real  answer  to  the  lawyer's  question,  that 
"  neighbour  "  is  too  broad,  and  too  human,  a  word  to 
be  cut  off  and  deliminated  by  any  boundaries  of  race. 

But  in  thus  casting  a  mantle  of  charity  around 
our  priest  and  Levite,  we  must  admit  that  the  cha- 
racter is  sometimes  true  even  down  to  recent  days. 
Ecclesiasticism  and  religion,  alas !  are  not  always 
synonyms.  Revolted  Israel  sins  and  sacrifices  by 
turns,  and  seeking  to  keep  the  balance  in  equal  poise, 
she  puts  over  against  her  multitude  of  sins  her  multi- 
tude of  sacrifices.  Religiousness  may  be  at  times  but 
a  cloak  for  moral  laxity,  and  to  some  rite  is  more  than 
right.  There  are  those,  alas  !  to-day,  who  wear  the 
livery  of  the  Temple,  to  whom  religion  is  a  routine 
mechanism  of  dead  things,  rather  than  the  commerce 
of  living  hearts,  who  open  with  hireling  hand  the 
Temple  gates,  who  chant  with  hireling  lips  how  "  His 
mercy  endureth  for  ever,"  and  then  step  down  from 
their  sacred  Jerusalem,  to  toss  justice  and  mercy  to  the 
winds,  as  they  defraud  the  widow  and  oppress  the  poor. 


*•  25-37-3  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  301 

11  But  a  certain  Samaritan,  as  he  journeyed,  came 
where  he  was  :  and  when  he  saw  him,  he  was  moved 
with  compassion,  and  came  to  him,  and  bound  up  his 
wounds,  pouring  on  them  oil  and  wine ;  and  he  set  him 
on  his  own  beast,  and  brought  him  to  an  inn,  and  took 
care  of  him."  At  first  sight  it  would  appear  as  if  Jesus 
had  weakened  the  narrative  by  a  topographical  in- 
accuracy, as  if  He  had  gone  out  of  His  way  to  place  a 
Samaritan  on  the  road  to  Jericho,  which  was  altogether 
out  of  the  line  of  Samaritan  travel.  But  it  is  a  deliber- 
ate purpose  on  the  part  of  Jesus,  and  not  a  lapsus 
linguae,  that  introduces  this  Samaritan ;  for  this  is  the 
gist  of  the  whole  parable.  The  man  who  had  fallen 
among  the  robbers  was  doubtless  a  Jew ;  for  had  it 
been  otherwise,  the  fact  would  have  been  stated.  Now, 
there  was  no  question  as  to  whether  the  word  "neigh- 
bour "  embraced  their  fellow-countrymen ;  the  question 
was  whether  it  passed  be}'ond  their  national  bounds, 
opening  up  lines  of  duty  across  the  outlying  world. 
It  is  therefore  almost  a  necessity  that  the  one  who 
teaches  this  lesson  should  be  himself  an  alien,  a 
foreigner,  and  Jesus  chooses  the  Samaritan  as  being  ot 
a  race  against  which  Jewish  antipathies  were  especially 
strong,  but  for  which  He  Himself  had  a  special  regard 
and  warmest  sympathy.  Though  occupying  adjacent 
territory,  the  Jews  and  the  Samaritans  practically  were 
far  apart,  antipodal  races  we  might  almost  call  them. 
Between  them  lay  a  wide  and  deep  chasm  that  trade 
even  could  not  bridge,  and  across  which  the  courtesies 
and  sympathies  of  life  never  passed.  "The  Jews  have 
no  dealings  with  the  Samaritans,"  said  the  flippant 
woman  of  Samaria,  as  she  voiced  a  jealousy  and  hatred 
which  were  as  mutual  as  they  were  deep.  But  here, 
in  this  ideal  Samaritan,  is  a  noble  exception.     Though 


302  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

belonging  to  a  lowly  and  obscure  race,  his  thoughts  are 
high.  The  ear  of  his  soul  has  so  caught  the  rhythm  of 
Divine  harmonies  that  it  does  not  hear  longer  the  little 
lisping  Shibboleths  of  earthly  speech;  and  while  the  sym- 
pathies of  smaller  hearts  flow  like  a  stream  down  in  their 
well-defined  and  accustomed  channel,  seldom  knowing 
any  overflow,  save  in  some  rare  freshet  of  impulse  and 
of  feeling,  the  sympathies  of  the  Samaritan  moved  out- 
ward like  the  currents  of  the  wind,  sweeping  across  all 
chasms  and  over  all  mountain  heights  of  division,  bear- 
ing their  clouds  of  blessing  anywhither  as  the  need 
required.  It  makes  no  difference  to  him  that  the  fallen 
man  is  of  an  alien  race.  He  is  a  man,  and  that  is 
enough ;  and  he  is  down,  and  must  be  raised ;  he  is 
in  need,  and  must  be  helped.  The  priest  and  Levite 
thought  first  and  most  of  themselves,  and  giving  to 
the  man  but  a  brief  and  scared  look,  they  passed  on 
with  a  quickened  pace.  Not  so  with  the  Samaritan; 
he  loses  all  thought  of  himself,  and  is  perfectly  oblivious 
to  the  danger  he  himself  may  be  running.  Upon  his 
great  soul  he  feels  the  pressure  of  this  "  must ; "  it  runs 
along  the  tightened  muscles  of  his  arm,  as  he  checks 
his  steed.  He  himself  comes  down,  dismounting,  that 
he  may  help  the  man  to  rise.  He  opens  his  flask  and 
puts  his  wine  to  the  lips,  that  their  groans  may  cease, 
or  that  they  may  be  soothed  down  into  inarticulate 
speech.  The  oil  he  has  brought  for  his  own  food  he 
pours  upon  the  wounds,  and  when  the  man  has  suf- 
ficiently recovered  he  lifts  him  upon  his  own  beast  and 
takes  him  to  the  inn.  Nor  is  this  enough  for  his  great 
heart,  but  continuing  his  journey  on  the  morrow,  he 
first  arranges  with  his  host  that  the  man  shall  [be  well 
cared  for,  giving  him  two  pence,  which  was  the  two 
days'   wages   of  a  labouring  man,   at   the   same  time 


x- 25-37-3  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  303 


telling  him  that  he  must  not  limit  his  attentions  to  the 
sum  he  pays  in  advance,  but  that  if  anything  more 
should  be  needed  he  would  pay  the  balance  on  his 
return.  We  do  not  read  whether  it  was  needed  or  not, 
for  the  Samaritan,  mounting  his  steed,  passes  out  of 
our  hearing  and  out  of  our  sight.  Not  quite  out  of 
our  hearing,  however,  for  Heaven  has  caught  his  gentle, 
loving  words,  and  hidden  them  within  this  parable,  that 
all  coming  times  may  listen  to  their  music ;  nor  out  of 
our  sight  either,  for  his  photograph  was  caught  in  the 
sunlight  of  the  Master's  speech ;  and  as  we  turn  over 
the  pages  of  Inspiration  there  is  no  picture  more  beauti- 
ful than  that  of  the  nameless  Samaritan,  whom  all  the 
world  calls  "  the  Good,"  the  man  who  knew  so  much 
better  than  his  age  what  humanity  and  mercy  meant. 

In  the  new  light  the  lawyer  can  answer  his  own  ques- 
tion now,  and  he  does ;  for  when  Jesus  asks,  "  Which 
of  these  three,  thinkest  thou,  proved  neighbour  unto 
him  that  fell  among  the  robbers  ?  "  he  replies,  with  no 
hesitation,  but  with  a  lingering  prejudice  that  does  not 
care  to  pronounce  the,  to  him,  outlandish  name,  "  He 
that  showed  mercy  on  him."  The  lesson  is  learned, 
the  lesson  of  humanity,  for  the  whole  parable  is  but 
an  amplification  of  the  Golden  Rule,  and  Jesus  dis- 
misses the  subject  and  the  scholar  with  the  personal 
application,  which  is  but  a  corollary  of  the  proposition 
He  has  demonstrated,  "Go  thou  and  do  likewise."  Go 
and  do  to  others  as  3'ou  would  have  them  do  to 
you,  v»Tere  the  circumstances  reversed  and  your  places 
changed.  Read  off  your  duty,  not  from  your  own  low 
standpoint  merely,  but  in  a  binocular  vision,  as  you  put 
yourself  in  his  place ;  so  will  you  find  that  the  line  of 
duty  and  the  line  of  beauty  are  one. 

The   practical   lessons   of  the  parable  are  easy  to 


304  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

trace,  as  they  are  of  universal  application.  The  first 
lesson  it  teaches  is  the  lesson  of  humanity,  the  neigh- 
bourhood and  brotherhood  of  man.  It  is  a  convenience, 
and  perhaps  a  necessity,  of  human  life,  that  the  great 
mass  of  humanity  should  be  broken  up  into  fragments, 
sections,  with  differing  customs,  languages,  and  names. 
It  gives  to  the  world  the  stimulus  of  competition  and 
helpful  rivalries.  But  these  distinctions  are  superficial, 
temporary,  and  beneath  this  diversity  of  speech  and 
thought  there  is  the  deeper  unity  of  soul.  We  empha- 
size our  differences ;  we  pride  ourselves  upon  them; 
but  how  little  does  Heaven  make  of  them !  Heaven 
does  not  even  see  them.  Our  national  boundaries  may 
climb  up  over  the  Alps,  but  they  cannot  touch  the  sky. 
Those  skies  look  down  and  smile  on  all  alike,  Divinely 
impartial  in  their  gifts  of  beauty  and  of  light.  And 
how  little  of  the  provincial,  or  even  national,  there  was 
about  Jesus  !  Though  He  kept  Himself  almost  entirely 
within  the  borders  of  the  Holy  Land,  never  going  far 
from  His  central  pivot,  which  was  Jerusalem,  and  its 
cross,  yet  He  belonged  to  the  world,  as  the  world 
belonged  to  Him.  He  called  Himself  the  Son  of  man, 
at  once  humanity's  flower,  and  humanity's  Son  and 
Saviour.  And  as  over  the  cradle  of  the  Son  of  man  the 
far  East  and  the  far  West  together  leaned,  so  around 
His  cross  was  the  meeting-place  of  the  races.  The 
three  chief  languages  inscribed  upon  it  proclaimed  His 
royalty,  while  the  cross  itself,  on  which  the  Sacrifice 
for  humanity  was  to  be  offered,  was  itself  the  gift  of 
humanity  at  large,  as  Asia  provided  it,  and  Europe 
prepared  it,  and  Africa,  in  the  person  of  the  Cyrenean, 
tore  it.  In  the  mind  of  Jesus,  as  in  the  purpose  of 
God,  humanity  was  not  a  group  of  fractions,  but  a 
unit   one  and  indivisible,  made  of  one  b*Dod,  and  by 


*  25-37-]  THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  305 

one  Blood  redeemed.  In  the  heart  of  Jesus  there  was 
the  "  enthusiasm  of  humanity/'  all-absorbing  and  com- 
plete, and  that  enthusiasm  takes  possession  of  us,  a 
new  force  generated  in  our  lives,  as  we  approach  in 
spirit  the  great  Ideal  Man. 

The  second  lesson  of  the  parable  is  the  lesson  of 
mere}',  the  beauty  of  self-sacrifice.  It  was  because  the 
Samaritan  forgot  himself  that  all  the  world  has  remem- 
bered and  applauded  him.  It  is  because  of  his  stoop  of 
self-renouncing  love  that  his  character  is  so  exalted,  his 
memory  so  dear,  and  that  his  very  name,  which  is  a 
title  without  a  name,  floats  down  the  ages  like  a  sweet 
song.  "Go  and  do  thou  likewise"  is  the  Master's 
word  to  us.  Discipline  your  heart  that  you  may  see 
in  man  everywhere  a  brother,  whose  keeper  you  are. 
Let  fraternity  be,  not  a  theory  only,  but  a  realized  fact, 
and  then  a  factor  of  your  life.  Train  your  eye  to 
watch  for  others'  needs,  to  read  another's  woe.  Train 
your  soul  to  sympathy,  and  your  hand  to  helpfulness; 
for  in  our  world  there  is  room  enough  for  both.  Beth- 
esda's  porches  stretch  far  as  our  eye  can  roach,  all 
crowded,  too,  with  the  sorrowing,  the  sick,  and  the  sad, 
thick  enough  indeed,  but  not  so  close  as  that  an  angel's 
foot  may  not  step  between  them,  and  not  so  sad  but 
an  angel's  voice  may  soothe  and  cheer.  He  who  lifts 
another's  load,  who  soothes  another's  smart,  who 
brightens  a  life  that  else  would  be  dark,  who  puts  a 
music  within  a  brother's  soul,  though  it  be  only  for  a 
passing  moment,  wakes  even  a  sweeter  music  within 
his  own,  for  he  enters  on  earth  into  his  Master's  joy, 
the  joy  of  a  redeeming,  self-sacrificing  love. 


20 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE    TWO   SISTERS. 
Luke  x.  38-42. 

AT  first  sight  it  appears  as  if  our  Evangelist  had 
departed  from  the  orderly  arrangement  of  which 
he  speaks  in  his  prelude,  in  thus  linking  this  domestic 
scene  of  Judaea  with  His  northern  Galilean  journey, 
and  to  the  casual  glance  this  home-flower  does  certainly 
seem  an  exotic  in  this  garden  of  the  Lord.  The 
strangeness,  the  out-of-placeness,  however,  vanishes 
entirely  upon  a  nearer,  closer  view.  If,  as  is  probable, 
the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan  was  spoken  during 
that  northward  journey,  its  scene  lies  away  in  Judaea, 
in  the  dangerous  road  that  sweeps  down  from  Jerusalem 
to  Jericho.  Now,  this  road  to  Jericho  lay  through  the 
village  of  Bethany,  and  in  the  Evangelist's  mind  the 
two  places  are  intimately  connected,  as  we  see  (chap, 
xix.  vv.  I,  29)  ;  so  that  the  idyll  of  Bethany  would  follow 
the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan  with  a  certain 
naturalness,  the  one  recalling  the  other  by  the  simple 
association  of  ideas.  Then,  too,  it  harmonizes  so 
thoroughly  with  its  context,  as  it  comes  between  a 
parable  on  works  and  a  chapter  on  prayer.  In  the  one, 
man  is  the  doer,  heart  and  hand  going  out  in  the 
beautiful  ministries  of  love ;  in  the  other,  man  is  the 
receiver,  waiting  upon  God,  opening  hand  and  heart 
for  the  inflow  of  Divine  grace.     In  one  it  is  Love  in 


x.  38-42.]  THE  TWO  SISTERS.  307 

action  that  we  see ;  in  the  other  it  is  Love  at  rest,  at 
rest  from  activities  of  her  own,  in  quest  of  further  good. 
This  is  exactly  the  picture  our  Evangelist  draws  of 
the  two  sisters,  and  which  might  have  served  as  a 
parable  had  it  not  been  so  plainly  taken  from  real 
life.  Perhaps,  too,  another  consideration  influenced 
the  Evangelist,  and  one  that  is  suggested  by  the  studied 
vagueness  of  the  narrative.  He  gives  no  clue  as  to 
where  the  little  incident  occurred,  for  the  M  certain 
village "  might  be  equally  appropriate  in  Samaria 
or  Judaea ;  while  the  two  names,  Martha  and  Mary, 
apart  from  the  corroboration  of  St.  John's  Gospel, 
would  not  enable  us  to  localize  the  scene.  It  is  evident 
that  St.  Luke  wished  to  throw  around  them  a  sort  of 
incognito,  probably  because  they  were  still  living  when 
he  wrote,  and  too  great  publicity  might  subject  them 
to  inconvenience,  or  even  to  something  more.  And 
so  St.  Luke  considerately  masks  the  picture,  shutting 
off  the  background  of  locality,  while  St.  John,  who 
writes  at  a  later  date,  when  Jerusalem  has  fallen,  and 
who  is  under  no  such  obligation  of  reserve,  fks  the 
scene  precisely;  for  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
Mary  and  Martha  of  his  Gospel,  of  Bethany,  are  the 
Martha  and  Mary  of  St.  Luke  ;  their  very  characters, 
as  well  as  names,  are  identical. 

It  was  in  one  of  His  journeys  to  the  south,  though 
we  have  no  means  of  telling  which,  that  He  came  to 
Bethany,  a  small  village  on  the  eastern  slope  of  Olivet, 
and  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  from  Jerusalem. 
There  are  several  indications  in  the  Gospels  that  this 
was  a  favourite  resort  of  Jesus  during  His  Jxidcean 
ministry  (Matt.  xxi.  1  ;  John  viii.  1) ;  and  it  is  some- 
what singular  that  the  only  nights  that  we  read  He 
spent  in  Jerusalem  were  the  night  in  the  garden  and 


308  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

the  two  nights  He  slept  in  its  grave.  He  preferred 
the  quiet  haven  of  Bethany ;  and  though  we  cannot 
with  absolute  certainty  recognize  the  village  home 
where  Jesus  had  such  frequent  welcome,  yet  throwing 
the  side-light  of  John  xi.  5  upon  the  haze,  it  seems 
in  part  to  lift ;  for  the  deep  affection  Jesus  had  for  the 
three  implies  a  close  and  ripened  intimacy. 

St.  John,  in  his  allusions  to  the  family,  makes  Mary 
prominent,  giving  precedence  to  her  name,  as  he  calls 
Bethany  "the  village  of  Mary  and  her  sister  Martha" 
(John  xi.  1).  St.  Luke,  however,  makes  Martha  the 
central  figure  of  his  picture,  while  Mary  is  set  back  in 
the  shade,  or  rather  in  the  sunshine  of  that  Presence 
which  was  and  is  the  Light  of  the  world.  It  was, 
"  Martha  received  Him  into  her  house."  She  was  the 
recognized  head  of  the  family,  "  the  lady "  in  fact, 
as  well  as  by  the  implication  of  her  name,  which  was 
the  native  equivalent  of  "  lady."  It  was  she  who  gave 
the  invitation  to  the  Master,  and  on  her  devolved  all 
the  care  of  the  entertainment,  the  preparation  of  the 
feast,  and  the  reception  of  the  guests ;  for  though  the 
change  of  pronoun  in  ver.  38  from  "they"  to  "Him" 
would  lead  us  to  suppose  that  the  disciples  had  gone 
another  way,  and  were  not  with  Him  now,  still  the 
"  much  serving "  would  show  that  it  was  a  special 
occasion,  and  that  others  had  been  invited  to  meet 
Jesus. 

It  is  a  significant  coincidence  that  St.  John,  speaking 
(xii.  2)  of  another  supper  at  Bethany,  in  the  house  of 
Simon,  states  that  Martha  "served,"  using  the  same 
word  that  Jesus  addressed  to  her  in  the  narrative  of 
St.  Luke.  Evidently  Martha  was  a  "  server."  This 
was  her  forte,  so  much  so  that  her  services  were  in 
requisition  outside  her  own  house.    Hers  was  a  cuMnary 


x.  38-42.]  THE  TWO  SISTERS.  309 

skill,  and  she  delighted  with  her  sleight  of  hand  to 
effect  all  sorts  of  transformations,  as,  conjuring  with 
her  fire,  she  called  forth  the  pleasures  and  harmonies 
of  taste.  In  this  case,  however,  she  overdid  it ;  she 
went  beyond  her  strength.  Perhaps  her  guests  out- 
numbered her  invitations,  or  something  unforeseen  had 
upset  her  plans,  so  that  some  of  the  viands  were 
belated.  At  any  rate,  she  was  cumbered,  distracted, 
"  put  about "  as  our  modern  colloquialism  would  have 
it.  Perhaps  we  might  say  she  was  "  put  out "  as  well, 
for  we  can  certainly  detect  a  trace  of  irritability  both 
in  her  manner  and  in  her  speech.  She  breaks  in 
suddenly  among  the  guests  (the  aorist  participle  gives 
the  rustle  of  a  quick  movement),  and  in  the  hearing  of 
them  all  she  says  to  Jesus,  "  Lord,  dost  Thou  not  care 
that  my  sister  did  leave  me  to  serve  alone  ?  bid  her 
therefore  that  she  help  me."  Her  tone  is  sharp, 
querulous,  and  her  words  send  a  deep  chill  across  the 
table,  as  when  a  sea- fret  drifts  coldly  inland.  If  Mary 
was  in  the  wrong  thus  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  Martha 
certainly  was  not  in  the  right.  There  was  no  occasion 
to  give  this  public  reprimand,  this  round-hand  rebuke. 
She  might  have  come  and  secretly  called  her,  as  she 
did  afterwards,  on  the  day  of  their  sorrow,  and  probably 
Mary  would  have  risen  as  quickly  now  as  then.  But 
Martha  is  overweighted,  ruffled ;  her  feelings  get  the 
better  of  her  judgment,  and  she  speaks,  out  of  the  impati- 
ence of  her  heart,  words  she  never  would  have  spoken  had 
she  but  known  that  Inspiration  would  keep  their  echoes 
reverberating  down  all  the  years  of  time.  And  besides, 
her  words  were  somewhat  lacking  in  respect  to  the 
Master.  True,  she  addresses  Him  as  "  Lord  ;  "  but 
having  done  this,  she  goes  off  into  an  interrogative 
with  an  implied  censure  in  it,  and  closes  with  an  im- 


310  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

perative,  which,  to  say  the  least,  was  not  becoming, 
while  all  through  an  undue  emphasis  is  laid  upon  the 
first  personal  pronoun,  the  "me"  of  her  aggrieved  self. 
Turning  to  the  other  sister,  we  find  a  striking  con- 
trast, for  Mary,  as  our  Evangelist  puts  it,  "  also  sat 
at  the  Lord's  feet,  and  heard  His  wTord."  This  does 
not  imply  any  forwardness  on  her  part,  or  any  desire 
to  make  herself  conspicuous;  the  whole  drift  of  her 
nature  was  in  the  opposite  direction.  Sitting  "  at  His 
feet "  now  that  they  were  reclining  at  the  table,  meant 
sitting  behind  Him,  alone  amid  the  company,  and 
screened  from  their  too-curious  gaze  by  Him  who  drew 
all  eyes  to  Himself.  Nor  does  she  break  through  her 
womanly  reserve  to  take  part  in  the  conversation;  she 
simply  "  heard  His  word  ; "  or  "  she  kept  listening," 
as  the  imperfect  tense  denotes.  She  put  herself  in  the 
listening  attitude,  content  to  be  in  the  shadow,  outside 
the  charmed  circle,  if  she  only  might  hear  Him  speak, 
whose  words  fell  like  a  rain  of  music  upon  her  soul. 
Her  sister  chided  her  for  this,  and  the  large  family  of 
modern  Marthas — for  feminine  sentiment  is  almost 
entirely  on  Martha's  side — blame  her  severely,  for 
what  they  call  the  selfishness  of  her  conduct,  seeking 
her  own  enjoyment,  even  though  others  must  pay  the 
price  of  it.  But  was  Mary  so  utterly  selfish  ?  and  did 
she  sacrifice  duty  to  gratify  her  inclination  ?  Not  at 
all,  and  certainly  not  to  the  extent  our  Marthas  would 
have  us  believe.  Mary  had  assisted  in  the  preparations 
and  the  reception,  as  £he  "  also "  of  ver.  39  shows ; 
while  Martha's  own  words,  "My  sister  did  leave  me 
to  serve  alone,"  themselves  imply  that  Mary  had  shared 
the  labours  of  the  entertainment  before  taking  her 
place  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  The  probability  is  that  she 
had  completed  her  task ,  and  now  that  He  who  spake 


x.  3S-42.]  THE   TWO  SISTERS.  311 

as  never  man  spake  before  was  conversing  with  the 
guests,  she  could  not  forego  the  privilege  of  listening 
to  the  voice  she  might  not  hear  again. 

It  is  to  Jesus,  however,  that  we  must  go  with  our 
rivalry  of  claims.  He  is  our  Court  of  Equity.  His 
estimate  of  character  was  never  at  fault.  He  looked 
at  the  essences  of  things,  the  soul  of  things,  and  not 
to  the  outward  wrappings  of  circumstance,  and  He 
read  that  palimpsest  of  motive,  the  underlying  thought, 
more  easily  than  others  could  read  the  outward  act. 
And  certainly  Jesus  had  no  apology  for  selfishness  ;  His 
whole  life  was  one  war  against  it,  and  against  sin, 
which  is  but  selfishness  ripened.  But  how  does  Jesus 
adjust  this  sisterly  difference  ?  Does  He  dismiss  the 
listener,  and  send  her  back  to  an  unfinished  task  ? 
Does  He  pass  on  to  her  Martha's  warm  reproof?  Not 
at  all ;  but  He  gently  reproves  the  elder  sister. 
"  Martha,  Martha,"  He  said,  as  if  her  mind  had 
wandered,  and  the  iteration  was  necessary  to  call  her 
to  herself,  "thou  art  anxious  and  troubled  about  many 
things  :  but  one  thing  is  needful :  for  Mary  hath  chosen 
the  good  part,  which  shall  not  be  taken  away  from  her." 

It  is  easy  to  see  from  this  where  Jesus  thought  the 
blame  should  rest.  It  was  Martha  who  had  taken  too 
much  upon  herself.  Her  generous  heart  had  gone 
beyond  her  strength,  and  far  beyond  the  need.  Wish- 
ing to  do  honour  to  her  Guest,  studying  to  please  Him, 
she  had  been  over-lavish  in  her  entertainment,  until 
she  had  become  worried — anxious,  troubled,  as  Jesus 
said,  the  former  word  referring  to  the  inner  disquiet, 
the  unrest  of  soul,  and  the  latter  to  the  outward  per- 
turbation, the  tremor  of  the  nerves,  and  the  cloudiness 
that  looked  from  her  eyes.  The  fact  was  that  Martha 
had  misread  the  tastes  of  her  Guest.     She  thought  to 


3ia  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

please  Him  by  the  abundance  of  her  provision,  the 
largeness  of  her  hospitality;  but  for  these  lower  pleasures 
of  sense  and  of  taste  Jesus  cared  little.  He  had  meat 
to  eat  that  others  knew  not  of,  and  to  do  the  will  of 
Him  that  sent  Him  was  to  Jesus  more  than  any 
ambrosia  or  nectar  of  the  gods.  The  more  simple  the 
repast,  the  more  it  pleased  Him,  whose  thoughts  were 
high  in  the  heavenly  places,  even  while  His  feet  and 
the  mortal  body  He  wore  touched  lightly  the  earth. 
And  so  while  Martha's  motive  was  pure,  her  judgment 
was  mistaken,  and  her  eager  heart  tempted  her  to 
works  of  supererogation,  to  an  excess  of  care  which 
was  anxiety,  the  fret  and  fever  of  the  soul.  Had  she 
been  content  with  a  modest  service,  such  as  would  have 
pleased  her  Guest,  she  too  might  have  found  time  to 
sit  at  His  feet,  and  to  have  found  there  an  Elim  of  rest 
and  a  Mount  of  Beatitudes. 

But  while  Jesus  has  a  kind  rebuke  for  Martha,  He 
has  only  words  of  commendation  for  her  sister,  whom 
she  has  been  so  openly  and  sharply  upbraiding. 
"  Mary,"  He  said,  speaking  the  name  Martha  had  not 
uttered,  u  hath  chosen  the  good  part,  wrhich  shall  not 
be  taken  away  from  her."  He  answers  Martha  in 
her  own  language,  her  native  tongue ;  for  in  speaking 
of  Mary's  choice  as  the  "  good  part,"  it  is  a  culinary 
phrase,  the  parlance  of  the  kitchen  or  the  table,  mean- 
ing the  choice  bit.  The  phrase  is  in  apposition  with 
the  one  thing  which  is  needful,  which  itself  is  the 
antithesis  to  the  "many  things"  of  Martha's  care. 
What  the  "  one  thing "  is  of  which  Jesus  speaks  we 
cannot  say  with  certainty,  and  almost  numberless  have 
been  the  interpretations  given  to  it.  But  without  going 
into  them,  can  we  not  find  the  truest  interpretation  in 
the  Lord's  own  words?     We   think  wre   may,  for  in 


X.3S-42.]  THE   TWO  SISTERS.  313 

the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  we  have  an  exact  parallel 
to  the  narrative.  He  finds  people  burdened,  anxious 
about  the  things  of  this  life,  wearying  themselves 
with  the  interminable  questions,  "  What  shall  we  eat  ? 
or  What  shall  we  drink  ?  "  as  if  life  had  no  quest  higher 
and  vaster  than  these.  And  Jesus  rebukes  this  spirit 
of  anxiety,  exorcising  it  by  an  appeal  to  the  lilies  and 
the  grass  of  the  field ;  and  summing  up  His  condemna- 
tion of  anxiety,  He  adds  the  injunction,  "  Seek  ye  His 
kingdom,  and  these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you" 
(xii.  31).  Here,  again,  we  have  the  "  many  things  "  of 
human  care  and  strife  contrasted  with  the  "  one  thing  " 
which  is  of  supremest  moment.  First,  the  kingdom ; 
this  in  the  mind  of  Jesus  was  the  summum  bonum,  the 
highest  good  of  man,  compared  with  which  the  "  many 
things  "  for  which  men  strive  and  toil  are  but  the  dust 
of  the  balances.  And  this  was  the  choice  of  Mary. 
She  sought  the  kingdom  of  God,  sitting  at  the  feet 
of  Him  who  proclaimed  it,  and  who  was,  though  she 
knew  it  not  as  yet,  Himself  the  King.  Martha  too 
sought  the  kingdom,  but  her  distracted  mind  showed 
that  that  was  not  her  only,  perhaps  not  her  chief 
quest.  Earthly  things  weighed  too  heavily  upon  her 
mind  and  heart,  and  through  their  dust  the  heavenly 
things  became  somewhat  obscured.  Mary's  heart  was 
set  heavenward.  She  was  the  listener,  eager  to  know 
the  will  of  God,  that  she  might  do  it.  Martha  was  so 
busied  with  her  own  activities  that  she  could  not  give 
her  thoughts  to  Christ ;  Mary  ceased  from  her  works, 
that  so  she  might  enter  into  His  rest,  setting  the 
world  behind  her,  that  her  undivided  gaze  might  be 
upon  Him  who  was  truly  her  Lord.  And  so  Jesus 
loved  Martha,  yet  pitied  and  chided  her,  while  He 
loved  and  commended  Mary. 


314  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

Nor  was  the  "  good  part "  ever  taken  from  her,  for 
again  and  again  we  find  her  returning  to  the  feet  of 
Jesus.  In  the  day  of  their  great  sorrow,  as  soon  as 
she  heard  that  the  Master  had  come  and  called  her,  she 
arose  quickly,  and  coming  to  Jesus,  though  it  was  the 
bare,  dusty  ground,  she  fell  at  His  feet,  seeking  strength 
and  help  where  she  before  had  sought  light  and  truth. 
And  once  more :  when  the  shadow  of  the  cross  came 
vividly  near,  when  Simon  gave  the  feast  which  Martha 
served,  Mary  sought  those  feet  again,  to  pour  upon 
them  the  precious  and  fragrant  nard,  the  sweet  odours 
of  which  filled  all  the  house,  as  they  have  since  filled 
all  the  world.  Yes,  Mary  did  not  sit  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus  in  vain ;  she  had  learned  to  know  Christ  as  few 
of  the  disciples  did ;  for  when  Jesus  said,  "  She  has 
done  it  for  My  burying,"  He  intends  us  to  infer  that 
Mary  feels,  stealing  over  her  retiring  but  loving  soul, 
the  cold  and  awful  shadow  of  the  cross.  Her  broken 
alabaster  and  its  poured-out  spikenard  are  her  unspoken 
ode  to  the  Redeemer,  her  pre-dated  homage  to  the 
Crucified. 

And  so  we  find  in  Mary  the  truest  type  of  service. 
Hers  was  not  always  the  passive  attitude,  receiving 
and  never  giving,  absorbing  and  not  diffusing.  There 
was  the  service  before  the  session  ;  her  hands  had 
prepared  and  wrought  for  Christ  before  she  placed 
herself  at  His  feet,  and  the  sacrifice  followed,  as  she 
brought  her  costly  gift,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  the 
rest,  her  sweet  and  healing  balm  for  the  wounds  which 
were  soon  to  follow. 

The  life  that  is  all  receptive,  that  has  no  active 
ministries  of  love,  no  waiting  upon  Christ  in  the  person 
of  His  followers,  is  an  unnatural,  an  unhealthy  life,  a 
piece  of  morbid  selfishness  which  neither  pleases  God 


x.  38-42.]  THE  TWO  SISTERS.  315 

nor  blesses  man.  On  the  other  hand,  the  life  that  is 
always  busy,  that  is  in  a  constant  swirl  of  outward  duties, 
flying  here  and  there  like  the  stormy  petrel  over  the 
unresting  waves,  will  soon  weary  or  wear  itself  out,  or 
it  will  grow  into  an  automaton,  a  mechanism  without  a 
soul.  Receiving,  giving,  praying,  working — these  are 
the  alternate  chords  on  which  the  music  of  our  lives 
should  be  struck.  Heavenward,  earthward,  should  be 
the  alternate  looks — heavenward  in  our  waiting  upon 
God,  and  earthward  in  our  service  for  man.  That  life 
shines  the  most  and  is  seen  the  farthest  which  reflects 
most  of  the  heavenly  light ;  and  he  serves  Christ  the 
best  who  now  sits  humbly  and  prayerfully  at  His  feet, 
and  then  goes  forth  to  be  a  "living  echo  of  His  voice," 
breaking  for  Him  the  alabaster  of  a  self-sacrificing 
love.  As  one  has  beautifully  expressed  it,  "  The 
effective  life  and  the  receptive  life  are  one.  No  sweep 
of  arm  that  does  some  work  for  God  but  harvests  also 
some  more  of  the  truth  of  God  and  sweeps  it  into  the 
treasury  of  the  life."  * 

But  if  Mary  gives  us  a  type  of  the  truest  and  best 
service,  Martha  shows  us  a  kind  of  service  which  is 
only  too  common.  She  gave  to  Jesus  a  right  loving 
welcome,  and  was  delighted  with  the  privilege  of  minis- 
tering to  His  wants  ;  but  the  coming  of  Jesus  brought 
her,  not  peace,  but  distraction — not  rest,  but  worry. 
Her  very  service  ruffled  and  irritated  her,  until  mind 
and  heart  were  like  the  tempestuous  lake  ere  the  spell 
of  the  Divine  u  Peace  "  fell  upon  it.  And  all  the  time 
the  Christ  was  near,  who  could  bear  each  burden,  and 
still  all  the  disquiet  of  the  soul  I  But  Martha  was  all 
absorbed  in  the  thought  of  what  she  could  do  for  Him, 

*  Phillips  Brooks. 


316  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

and  she  forgot  how  much  more  He  could  do  for  her, 
giving  to  her  chafed  spirit  quietness  and  rest,  even 
amid  her  toil.  The  Divine  Peace  was  near  her,  within 
her  home,  but  the  hurryings  of  her  restless  will  and 
her  manifold  activities  effectually  excluded  that  peace 
from  her  heart. 

And  how  many  who  call  themselves  Christians  are 
true  Marthas,  serving  Christ,  but  feeling  the  yoke  to 
chafe,  and  the  burden  to  weight  them  1  perhaps  preach- 
ing to  others  the  Gospel  of  rest  and  peace,  and  them- 
selves knowing  little  of  its  experience  and  blessedness — 
like  the  camels  of  the  desert,  which  carry  their  treasures 
of  corn  and  sweet  spices  to  others,  and  themselves 
feed  n  the  bitter  and  prickly  herbs.  Ah,  you  are 
too  much  upon  your  feet  1  Cease  for  awhile  from  your 
own  works,  and  let  God  work  in  you.  Wait  in  His 
presence.  Let  His  words  take  hold  of  you,  and  His 
love  enthuse  you  ;  so  will  you  find  rest  amid  your 
toil,  calmness  amid  the  strife,  and  you  will  prove  that 
the  fret  and  the  fever  of  life  will  all  disappear  at  the 
touch  of  the  living  Christ. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

LOST    AND     FOUND. 
Luke  xv. 

IN  this  chapter  we  see  how  the  waves  of  influence, 
moving  outward  from  their  Divine  centre,  touch 
the  outermost  fringe  of  humanity,  sending  the  pulsations 
of  new  excitements  and  new  hopes  through  classes 
Religion  and  Society  both  had  banned.  "  Now  all  the 
publicans  and  sinners  were  drawing  near  unto  Him, 
for  to  hear  Him."  It  was  evidently  a  movement 
widespread  and  deep.  The  hostility  of  Pharisees  and 
scribes  would  naturally  give  to  these  outcasts  a  certain 
bias  in  His  favour,  causing  their  hearts  to  lean  towards 
him,  while  His  words  of  hope  fell  upon  their  lives  like 
the  breaking  of  a  new  dawn.  Nor  did  Jesus  forbid 
their  approach.  Instead  of  looking  upon  it  as  an 
intrusion,  an  impertinence,  the  attraction  was  mutual. 
Instead  of  receiving  them  with  a  cold  and  scant  courtesy, 
He  welcomed  them,  receiving  them  gladly,  as  the  verb 
of  the  Pharisees'  murmur  implies.  He  even  mingled 
with  them  in  social  intercourse,  with  an  acceptance, 
if  not  an  interchange,  of  hospitality.  To  the  Pharisaic 
mind,  however,  this  was  a  flagrant  lapse,  a  breach  of 
the  proprieties  which  was  unpardonable  and  half 
criminal,  and  they  gave  vent  to  their  disapprobation 
and  disgust  in  the  loud  and  scornful  murmur,  "  This 


318  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

man  receiveth  sinners,  and  eateth  with  them."  It  is 
from  this  hard  sentence  of  withering  contempt,  as  from 
a  prickly  and  bitter  calyx,  we  have  the  trifoliate 
parables  of  the  Lost  Sheep,  the  Lost  Coin,  and  the  Lost 
Man,  the  last  of  which  is  perhaps  the  crown  and 
flower  of  all  the  parables.  With  minor  differences,  the 
three  parables  are  really  one,  emphasizing,  as  they 
reiterate,  the  one  truth  how  Heaven  seeks  after  the 
lost  of  earth,  and  how  it  rejoices  when  the  lost  is 
found. 

The  first  parable  is  pastoral :  "  What  man  of  you," 
asks  Jesus,  using  the  Tu  quoque  retort,  "having  a 
hundred  sheep,  and  having  lost  one  of  them,  doth  not 
leave  the  ninety  and  nine  in  the  wilderness,  and  go 
after  that  which  is  lost,  until  he  find  it  ?  "  It  is  one 
of  those  questions  which  only  need  to  be  asked  to 
be  answered,  an  interrogative  which  is  axiomatic  and 
self-evident.  Jesus  tries  to  set  his  detractors  in  His 
place,  that  they  may  think  His  thoughts,  feel  His 
feelings,  as  they  look  out  on  the  world  from  His  stand- 
point ;  but  since  they  cannot  follow  Him  to  these 
redemptive  heights,  He  comes  down  to  the  lower  level 
of  their  vision.  "  Suppose  you  have  a  hundred  sheep, 
and  one  of  them,  getting  separated  from  the  rest, 
goes  astray,  what  do  you  do  ?  Dismissing  it  from 
your  thought,  do  you  leave  it  to  its  fate,  the  certain 
slaughter  that  awaits  it  from  the  wild  beasts?  or  do 
3rou  seek  to  minimize  your  loss,  working  it  out  by  the 
rule  of  proportion  as  you  ask,  '  What  is  one  to  ninety- 
nine  ? '  then  writing  off  the  lost  one,  not  as  a  unit,  but 
as  a  common  fraction  ?  No ;  such  a  supposition  is 
incredible  and  impossible.  You  would  go  in  search 
of  the  lost  directly.  Turning  your  back  upon  the 
ninety  and  nine,  and  turning  your  thoughts  from  them 


xv.]  LOST  AND  FOUND.  3  »9 

too,  you  would  leave  them  in  their  mountain  pasture,* 
as  you  sought  the  lost  one.  Calling  it  by  its  name, 
you  would  climb  the  terraced  hills,  and  awake  the 
echoes  of  the  wadies,  until  the  flinty  heart  of  the 
mountain  had  felt  the  sympathy  of  your  sorrow, 
repeating  with  you  the  lost  wanderer's  name.  And 
when  at  last  you  found  it  you  would  not  chide  or 
punish  it ;  you  would  not  even  force  it  to  retrace  its 
steps  across  the  weary  distance,  but  taking  compassion 
on  its  weakness,  you  would  lift  it  upon  your  shoulders 
and  bear  it  rejoicing  home.  Then  forgetful  of  your 
own  weariness,  fatigue  and  anxiety  swallowed  up  in 
the  new-found  joy,  you  would  go  round  to  your 
neighbours,  to  break  the  good  news  to  them,  and  so 
all  would  rejoice  together." 

Such  is  the  picture,  warm  in  colour  and  instinct 
with  life,  Jesus  sketches  in  a  few  well-chosen  words. 
He  delicately  conceals  all  reference  to  Himself;  but 
even  the  chromatic  vision  of  the  Pharisees  would 
plainly  perceive  how  complete  was  its  justification  of 
His  own  conduct,  in  mingling  thus  with  the  erring  and 
the  lost ;  while  to  us  the  parable  is  but  a  veil  of  words, 
through  which  we  discern  the  form  and  features  of  the 
11  Good  Shepherd,"  who  gave  even  His  life  for  the 
sheep,  seeking  that  He  might  save  that  which  was  lost. 

The  second,  which  is  a  twin  parable,  is  from  domestic 
life.  As  in  the  parables  of  the  kingdom,  Jesus  sets 
beside  the  man  with  the  mustard-seed  the  woman  with 
her  leaven,  so  here  He  makes  the  same  distinction, 
clothing  the  Truth  both  in  a  masculine  and  a  feminine 
dress.  He  asks  again,  "  Or  what  woman  "  (He  does 
not  say  "  of  you,"  for  if  women  were  present  amongst 

*  fhe  word  rendered  "wilderness"  means  any  and  unenclosed. 


320  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE.  ^ 

His  hearers  they  would  be  in  the  background)  "  having 
ten  pieces  of  silver,  if  she  lose  one  piece,  doth  not  light 
a  lamp,  and  sweep  the  house,  and  seek  diligently  until 
she  find  it  ?  And  wThen  she  hath  found  it,  she  calleth 
together  her  friends  and  neighbours,  saying,  Rejoice 
with  me,  for  I  have  found  the  piece  which  I  had  lost." 
Much  objection  has  been  taken  to  this  parable  for  its 
supposed  want  of  naturalness  and  reality.  "Is  it 
likely,"  our  objectors  say,  "  that  the  loss  of  a  small  coin 
like  a  drachma,  whose  value  was  about  sevenpence- 
halfpenny,  could  be  the  occasion  of  so  much  concern, 
and  that  its  recovery  should  be  enough  to  call  forth  the 
congratulations  of  all  the  village  matrons  ?  Surely  that 
is  not  parable,  but  hyperbole."  But  things  have  a  real 
as  well  as  an  intrinsic  value,  and  what  to  others  would 
be  common  and  cheap,  to  its  possessor  might  be  a 
treasure  beyond  reckoning,  with  all  the  added  values 
of  association  and  sentiment.  So  the  ten  drachmas  of 
the  woman  might  have  a  history;  they  might  have 
been  a  family  heirloom,  moving  quietly  down  the 
generations,  with  whole  poems,  ay,  and  even  tragedies, 
hidden  within  them.  Or  we  can  conceive  of  a  poverty 
so  dire  and  strait  that  even  one  small  coin  in  the 
emergent  circumstance  might  grow  into  a  value  far 
beyond  its  intrinsic  worth.  But  the  parable  does  not 
need  all  these  suppositions  to  steady  it  and  keep  it 
from  falling  to  the  ground.  When  rightly  understood 
it  becomes  singularly  natural,  the  truth  of  truth,  if  such 
an  essence  can  be  distilled  in  human  speech.  The  pro- 
bable interpretation  is  that  the  ten  drachmas  were  the 
ten  coins  worn  as  a  frontlet  by  the  women  of  the  East. 
This  frontlet  was  given  by  the  bridegroom  to  the  bride 
at  the  time  of  marriage,  and  like  the  ring  of  Western 
life,  it  was  invested  with  a  kind  of  sanctity.     It  must 


xv.j  LOST  AND  FOUND.  321 


be  worn  on  all  public  occasions,  and  guarded  with  a 
jealous,  sacred  care ;  for  should  one  of  its  pieces  be 
lost,  it  would  be  regarded  as  an  indication  that  the 
possessor  had  not  only  been  careless,  but  also  that  she 
had  been  unfaithful  to  her  marriage  vow.  Throwing, 
then,  this  light  of  Eastern  custom  upon  the  parable, 
how  vivid  and  lifelike  it  becomes  1  With  what  intense 
eagerness  would  she  seek  for  the  missing  coin  1  Light- 
ing her  lamp — for  the  house  would  be  but  dimly  lighted 
with  its  open  door  and  its  small  unglazed  window — how 
carefully  and  almost  tremblingly  she  would  peer  along 
its  shelves,  and  sweep  out  the  corners  of  her  few 
rooms !  and  how  great  would  be  her  joy  as  she  saw 
it  glistening  in  the  dust !  Her  whole  soul  would  go 
out  after  it,  as  if  it  were  a  living,  sentient  thing.  She 
would  clasp  it  in  her  hand,  and  even  press  it  to  her 
lips  ;  for  has  it  not  taken  a  heavy  care  and  sorrow  from 
her  heart  ?  That  one  coin  rising  from  the  dust  has 
been  to  her  like  the  rising  of  another  sun,  filling  her 
home  with  light  and  her  life  with  melody ;  and  what 
wonder  that  she  hastens  to  communicate  her  joy,  as, 
standing  by  her  door,  after  the  Eastern  wont,  she  holds 
up  the  missing  treasure,  and  calls  on  her  neighbours 
and  friends  (the  substantives  are  feminine  now)  to 
rejoice  with  her. 

The  third  parable  carries  the  thought  still  higher, 
forming  the  crown  of  the  ascending  series.  Not  only 
is  there  a  mathematical  progression,  as  the  lost  fraction 
increases  from  one-hundredth  to  one-tenth,  and  then 
to  one-half  of  the  whole,  but  the  intrinsic  value  of  the 
loss  rises  in  a  corresponding  series.  In  the  first  it 
was  a  lost  sheep,  a  loss  which  might  soon  be  replaced, 
and  which  would  soon  be  forgotten  ;  in  the  second  it 
was  a  lost  coin,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  meant  the  loss 

21 


32a  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

of  what  was  more  valuable  than  gold,  even  honour  and 
character;  while  in  the  third  it  is  a  lost  child.  We 
call  it  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  ;  it  might  with 
equal  propriety  be  called  the  Parable  of  the  Bereaved 
Father,  for  the  whole  story  crystallizes  about  that 
name,  repeating  it,  in  one  form  or  another,  no  less  than 
twelve  times. 

"  A  certain  man,"  so  begins  this  parabolic  Paternoster, 
"had  two  sons."  Tired  of  the  restraints  of  home  and 
the  surveillance  of  the  father's  eye,  the  younger  of 
them  determined  to  see  the  world  for  himself,  in  order, 
as  the  sequel  shows,  that  he  might  have  a  free  hand, 
and  give  loose  reins  to  his  passions.  With  a  cold, 
impertinent  bluntness,  he  says  to  the  father,  whose 
death  he  thus  anticipates,  "  Father,  give  me  the  portion 
of  thy  substance  that  falleth  to  me,"  a  command 
whose  sharp,  imperative  tone  shows  but  too  plainly 
the  proud,  masterful  spirit  of  the  youth.  He  respects 
neither  age  nor  law;  for  though  the  paternal  estate 
could  be  divided  during  the  father's  life,  no  son,  much 
less  the  younger,  had  any  right  to  demand  it.  The 
father  grants  the  request,  dividing  M  unto  them,"  as  it 
reads,  "  his  living ;  "  for  the  same  line  which  marks  off 
the  portion  of  the  younger  marks  out  too  that  of  the 
elder  son,  though  he  holds  his  portion  as  yet  only  in 
promise.  Not  many  days  after — for  having  found  its 
wings,  the  foolish  bird  is  in  haste  to  fly — the  youth 
gathers  all  together,  and  then  takes  his  journey  into 
a  far  country.  The  down  grades  of  life  are  generally 
steep  and  short,  and  so  one  sentence  is  enough  to 
describe  this  descensus  Averni,  down  which  the  youth 
plunges  so  insanely  :  "  He  wasted  his  substance  with 
riotous  living,"  scattering  it,  as  the  verb  means,  throw- 
ing it  away  after  low,  illicit  pleasures.     "  And  when  he 


xv.J  LOST  AND  FOUND.  323 

had  spent  all" — the  "all"  he  had  scrambled  for  and 
gathered  a  short  while  before — "  there  arose  a  mighty 
famine  in  that  country ;  and  he  began  to  be  in  want ;  " 
and  so  great  were  his  straits,  so  remorseless  the  pangs 
of  hunger,  that  he  was  glad  to  attach  himself  to  a 
citizen  of  that  country  as  swineherd,  living  out  in  the 
fields  with  his  drove,  like  the  swineherds  of  Gadara. 
But  such  was  the  pressure  of  the  famine  that  his  mere 
pittance  could  not  cope  with  famine  prices,  and  again 
and  again  he  hungered  to  have  his  fill  of  the  carob- 
pods,  which  were  dealt  out  statedly  and  sparingly  to  the 
swine.  But  no  man  gave  even  these  to  him ;  he  was 
forgotten,  as  one  already  dead. 

Such  is  the  picture  Jesus  draws  of  the  lost  man,  a 
picture  of  abject  misery  and  degradation.  When  the 
sheep  wandered  it  strayed  unwittingly,  blindly,  get- 
ting farther  from  its  fellows  and  its  fold  even  when 
bleating  vainly  for  them.  When  the  drachma  was  lost 
it  did  not  lose  itself,  nor  had  it  any  consciousness  that 
it  had  dropped  out  of  its  proper  environment.  But  in 
the  case  of  the  lost  man  it  was  altogether  different. 
Here  it  is  a  wilful  perversity,  which  breaks  through  the 
restraints  of  home,  tramples  upon  its  endearments,  and 
throws  up  a  blighted  life,  scarred  and  pealed  amid  the 
husks  and  swine  of  a  far  country.  And  it  is  this 
element  of  perversity,  self-will,  which  explains,  as 
indeed  it  necessitates,  another  marked  difference  in 
the  parables.  When  the  sheep  and  the  drachma  were 
lost  there  was  an  eager  search,  as  the  shepherd  fol- 
lowed the  wanderer  over  the  mountain  gullies,  and  the 
woman  with  broom  and  lamp  went  after  the  lost  coin. 
But  when  the  youth  is  lost,  flinging  himself  away,  the 
father  does  not  follow  him,  except  in  thought,  and  love, 
and  prayer.     He  sits  "  still  in  the  house,"  nursing  a 


324  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

bitter  grief,  and  the  work  on  the  farm  goes  on  just 
as  usual,  for  the  service  of  the  younger  brother  would 
probably  be  not  much  missed.  And  why  does  not  the 
father  summon  his  servants,  bidding  them  go  after  the 
lost  child,  bringing  him  home,  if  necessary,  by  force  ? 
Simply  because  such  a  finding  would  be  no  finding. 
They  might  indeed  carry  the  wanderer  home,  setting 
down  his  feet  by  the  familiar  door;  but  of  what  use 
is  that  if  his  heart  is  still  wayward  and  his  will  rebel- 
lious ?  Home  would  not  be  home  to  him;  and  with 
his  heart  in  the  far  country,  he  would  walk  even  in 
his  father's  fields  and  in  his  father's  house  as  an  alien, 
a  foreigner.  And  so  all  embassies,  all  messages  would 
be  in  vain ;  and  even  a  father's  love  can  do  no  more 
than  wait,  patiently  and  prayerfully,  in  hopes  that  a 
better  spirit  may  yet  come  over  him,  and  that  some 
rebound  of  feeling  may  bring  him  home,  a  humbled 
penitent.  The  change  comes  at  length,  and  the  slow 
morning  dawns. 

When  the  photographer  wishes  to  develop  the  picture 
that  is  hidden  in  the  film  of  the  sensitive  plate  he 
carries  it  to  a  darkened  room,  and  bathed  in  the  de- 
veloping solution  the  latent  image  gradually  appears, 
even  to  the  minutest  details.  It  was  so  here;  for 
when  in  his  extremest  need,  with  the  pinch  of  a  fearful 
hunger  upon  him,  and  the  felt  darkness  of  a  painful 
isolation  surrounding  him,  there  came  into  the  prodigal's 
soul  a  sweet  picture  of  the  far-away  home,  the  home 
which  might  still  have  been  his  but  for  his  wantonness, 
but  which  is  his  now  only  in  memory.  It  is  true  his 
first  thoughts  of  that  home  were  not  very  lofty ;  they 
only  crouched  with  the  dogs  under  the  father's  table, 
or  hovered  around  the  plentiful  board  of  the  servants, 
attracted  by  the  "  bread  enough  and  to  spare."    But  such 


xv.]  LOST  AND  FOUND.  3*5 

is  the  natural  association  of  ideas ;  the  carob-pods  of 
the  swine  naturally  suggest  the  bread  of  the  servants, 
while  this  in  turn  opens  up  all  the  chambers  of  the 
father's  house,  reviving  its  half-faded  images  of  happi- 
ness and  love,  and  awaking  all  the  sweet  memories 
that  sin  had  stifled  and  silenced.  That  it  was  so  here, 
the  lower  leading  up  to  the  higher  thought,  is  evident 
from  the  young  man's  soliloquy :  "  I  will  arise  and  go 
to  my  father,  and  will  say  unto  him,  Father,  I  have 
sinned  against  Heaven  and  in  thy  sight :  I  am  no  more 
worthy  to  be  called  thy  son :  make  me  as  one  of  thy 
hired  servants."  The  hunger  for  the  servants'  bread 
is  all  forgotten  now,  swallowed  up  in  the  hunger  of 
the  soul,  as  it  pines  for  the  father's  presence  and  for 
the  father's  smile,  longing  for  the  lost  Eden.  The 
very  name  "  father"  strikes  with  a  strange  music  upon 
his  awakened  and  penitent  soul,  making  him  for  the 
time  half-oblivious  to  his  present  wretchedness;  and 
as  Memory  recalls  a  bright  but  vanished  past,  Hope 
peoples  the  dark  sky  with  a  heavenly  host,  who  sing 
a  new  Advent,  the  dawn  of  a  heavenly  day.  An 
Advent?  Perhaps  it  was  an  Easter  rather,  with  a 
"resurrection  from  earth  to  things  above,"  an  Easter 
whose  anthem,  in  songs  without  end,  was,  "  I  will 
arise  and  go  to  my  father,"  that  Resurgam  of  a  new 
and  holier  life. 

No  sooner  is  the  "  I  will "  spoken  than  there  is  a 
reversing  of  all  the  wheels.  The  hands  follow  whither 
the  heart  has  gone ;  the  feet  shake  off  the  dust  of  the 
far  country,  retracing  the  steps  they  measured  so 
foolishly  and  lightly  before;  while  the  eyes,  washed 
by  their  bitter  tears — 

"  Not  backward  are  their  glances  bent, 
But  onward  to  the  Father's  house." 


326  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

"And  he  arose  and  came  to  his  father."  He  came 
to  himself  first ;  and  having  found  that  better  self,  he 
became  conscious  of  the  void  he  had  not  felt  before. 
For  the  first  time  he  realizes  how  much  the  father 
is  to  him,  and  how  terrible  the  bereavement  and  loss 
he  inflicted  upon  himself  when  he  put  between  that 
father  and  himself  the  desert  of  an  awful  distance. 
And  as  the  bright  memories  of  other  days  flash 
up  within  his  soul,  like  the  converging  rays  of  a 
borealis,  they  all  turn  towards  and  centre  in  the  father. 
Servants,  home,  and  loaves  of  bread  alike  speak  of 
him  whose  very  shadow  is  brightness  to  the  self- 
orphaned  child.  He  yearns  for  the  father's  presence 
with  a  strange  and  intense  yearning ;  and  could  that 
presence  be  his  again,  even  if  he  were  nothing  more 
than  a  servant,  with  but  casual  interviews,  hearing 
his  voice  but  in  its  commanding  tones,  he  would  be 
content  and  happy. 

And  so  he  comes  and  seeks  the  father;  will  the 
father  relent  and  receive  him  ?  Can  he  overlook  and 
forgive  the  waywardness  and  wantonness  which  have 
embittered  his  old  age  ?  Can  he  receive  him  back  even 
as  a  servant,  a  child  who  has  scorned  his  authority, 
slighted  his  love,  and  squandered  his  substance  in 
riotous  living?  Does  the  father  say,  "  He  has  made  his 
own  bed,  and  he  must  lie  upon  it ;  he  has  had  his  portion, 
even  to  the  swept-up  crumbs,  and  there  is  nothing  left 
for  him  now  "  ?  No,  for  there  is  something  left,  a  trea- 
sure which  he  might  scorn,  indeed,  but  which  he  could 
not  throw  away,  even  a  heritage  of  love.  And  what  a 
picture  the  parable  draws  of  the  love  that  hopeth  and 
endureth  all  things  1  "  But  while  he  was  yet  afar  off, 
his  father  saw  him,  and  was  moved  with  compassion, 
and  ran,  and  fell  on  his  neck,  and  kissed  him."     As  the 


xv.]  LOST  AND  FOUND.  327 

moon  in  her  revolutions  lifts  up  the  tides,  drawing  the 
deep  oceans  to  herself,  so  do  the  unsounded  depths  of 
the  father's  heart  turn  towards  the  prodigal  whose  life 
has  set,  dropping  out  of  sight  behind  wildernesses  of 
darkness.  Thought,  prayer,  pity,  compassion,  love  flow 
out  towards  the  attraction  they  can  no  longer  see. 
Nay,  it  seems  as  if  the  father's  vision  were  transfixed 
riveted  to  the  spot  where  the  form  of  his  erring  lad 
vanished  out  of  sight ;  for  no  sooner  has  the  youth 
come  within  sight  of  the  home,  than  the  father's  eyes, 
made  telescopic  with  love,  discern  him,  and  as  if  by 
intuition,  recognize  him,  even  though  his  attire  be  mean 
and  tattered,  and  his  step  has  no  longer  the  lightness 
of  innocence  nor  the  firmness  of  integrity.  It  is,  it  is 
his  child,  the  erring  but  now  repenting  child,  and  the 
pent-up  emotions  of  the  father's  soul  rush  out  as  in  a 
tumultuous  freshet  to  meet  him.  He  even  "ran"  to 
meet  him,  all  forgetful  of  the  dignity  of  years,  and 
throwing  himself  upon  his  neck,  he  kissed  him,  not 
either  with  the  cold  kiss  of  courtesy,  but  with  the 
warm,  fervent  kiss  of  love,  as  the  intensive  prefix  of 
the  verb  implies. 

So  far  this  scene  of  reconciliation  has  been  as  a  dumb 
show.  The  storm  of  emotion  so  interrupted  the  electric 
flow  of  quiet  thought  and  speech  that  no  word  was 
spoken  in  the  mutual  embrace.  When,  however,  the 
power  of  speech  returns  the  youth  is  the  first  to  break 
the  silence.  "  Father,"  he  said,  repeating  the  words  of 
his  mental  resolve  when  in  the  far  country,  "I  have 
sinned  against  Heaven,  and  in  thy  sight :  I  am  no  more 
worthy  to  be  called  thy  son."  It  is  no  longer  the  sense 
of  physical  need,  but  the  deeper  sense  of  guilt,  that 
now  presses  upon  his  soul.  The  moral  nature,  which 
by  the  anodynes  of  sin  had  been  thrown  into  a  state  of 


328  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

coma,  awakes  to  a  vivid  consciousness,  and  in  the  new 
awakening,  in  the  broadening  light  of  the  new  dawn, 
he  sees  one  thing  only,  and  that  is  his  sin,  a  sin  which 
has  thrown  its  blackness  over  the  wasted  years,  which 
has  embittered  a  father's  heart,  and  which  cast  its 
shadow  even  into  heaven  itself.  Nor  is  it  the  convic- 
tion of  sin  only ;  there  is  a  full  and  frank  confession  of 
it,  with  no  attempt  at  palliation  or  excuse.  He  does 
not  seek  to  gloss  it  over,  but  smiting  his  breast  with 
bitter  reproaches,  he  confesses  his  sin  with  "  a  humble, 
lowly,  penitent,  and  obedient  heart,"  hoping  for  the 
mercy  and  forgiveness  he  is  conscious  he  does  not 
deserve.  Nor  does  he  hope  in  vain.  Even  before  the 
confession  is  completed,  the  absolution  is  spoken, 
virtually  at  least ;  for  without  allowing  the  youth  to 
finish  his  sentence,  in  which  he  offers  to  renounce  his 
sonship  and  to  accept  a  menial  position,  the  father  calls 
to  the  servants,  "Bring  forth  quickly  the  best  robe, 
and  put  it  on  him;  and  put  a  ring  on  his  hand,  and 
shoes  on  his  feet :  and  bring  the  fatted  calf,  and  kill  it, 
and  let  us  eat  and  make  merry."  In  this  peal  of  im- 
peratives we  detect  the  rapid  beating  of  the  father's 
heart,  the  loving,  eager  haste  to  wipe  out  all  the  sad 
marks  that  sin  has  left.  In  the  luminous  atmosphere 
of  the  father's  love  the  youth  is  no  more  the  prodigal ; 
he  is  as  one  transfigured ;  and  now  that  the  chrysalis 
has  left  the  mire,  and  crept  up  into  the  sunlight,  it  must 
have  a  dress  befitting  its  new  summer  life,  wings  of 
gauze,  and  robes  of  rainbow  hues.  The  best,  or  "  the 
first  robe "  as  it  is  in  the  Greek,  must  be  brought  out 
for  him ;  a  signet-ring,  the  pledge  of  authority,  must 
be  put  upon  his  hand ;  shoes,  the  badge  of  freedom, 
must  be  found  for  the  tired  and  bared  feet;  while  for 
the  merry-making  which  is  extemporized,  the  domestic 


xv.  LOST  AND  FOUND.  329 

festa  which  is  the  crown  of  these  rejoicings,  the  fatted 
calf,  which  was  in  reserve  for  some  high  festival,  must 
be  killed.  And  all  this  is  spoken  in  a  breath,  in  a  sort 
of  bewilderment,  the  ecstasy  of  an  excessive  joy ;  and 
forgetting  that  the  simple  command  is  enough  for 
servants,  the  master  must  needs  tell  out  his  joy  to 
them  :  "  For  this  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again  ; 
he  was  lost,  and  is  found." 

If  the  three  parables  were  all  through  coincident,  the 
Parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  should  close  at  this  point, 
the  curtain  dropping  over  the  festive  scene,  w7here  songs, 
and  music,  and  the  rhythm  of  the  dance  are  the  outward 
and  weak  expressions  of  the  father's  joy  over  the  son 
who  comes  back  from  the  far  country,  as  one  alive  from 
the  dead.  But  Jesus  has  another  purpose;  He  must 
not  only  plead  the  cause  of  the  outcast  and  the  low, 
setting  open  for  them  the  door  of  mercy  and  of  hope ; 
He  must  also  rebuke  and  silence  the  unreasoning 
murmur  of  the  Pharisees  and  scribes — wrhich  He  does 
in  the  picture  of  the  Elder  Brother.  Coming  from  the 
field,  the  heir  is  surprised  to  find  the  whole  house  given 
up  to  an  impromptu  feast.  He  hears  the  sounds  of 
merriment  and  music,  but  its  strains  fall  strange  and 
harsh  upon  his  ear.  What  can  it  mean  ?  Why  wras 
he  not  consulted  ?  Why  should  his  father  thus  take 
occasion  of  his  absence  in  the  fields  to  invite  his  friends 
and  neighbours  ?  The  proud  spirit  chafes  under  the 
slight,  and  calling  one  of  the  servants,  he  asks  what 
it  all  means.  The  answer  is  not  reassuring,  for  it  only 
perplexes  and  pains  him  the  more  :  "  Thy  brother  is 
come ;  and  thy  father  hath  killed  the  fatted  calf,  because 
he  hath  received  him  safe  and  sound " — an  answer 
which  does  but  deepen  his  displeasure,  turning  his 
sullenness  to  anger.     "  And  would  not  go  in."     They 


33Q  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

may  end  the  feast,  as  they  began  it,  without  him.  The 
festive  joy  is  something  foreign  to  his  nature ;  it  awakes 
but  feelings  of  repulsion,  and  all  its  music  is  to  him  a 
grating  discord,  a  Miserere. 

But  let  us  not  be  too  severe  upon  the  elder  brother. 
He  was  not  perfect,  by  any  means,  but  in  any  appraise- 
ment of  his  character  there  are  certain  veinings  of 
worth  and  nobleness  that  must  not  be  omitted.  We 
have  already  seen  how,  in  the  division  of  the  father's 
goods,  when  he  divided  unto  them  his  living,  while  the 
younger  took  away  his  portion,  and  swiftly  scattered  it 
in  riotous  living,  the  elder  brother  took  no  advantage 
of  the  deed  of  gift.  He  did  not  dispossess  the  father, 
securing  for  himself  the  paternal  estate.  He  put  it  back 
into  his  father's  hands,  content  with  the  filial  relation 
of  dependence  and  obedience.  The  father's  word  was 
still  his  law.  He  was  the  dutiful  son ;  and  when  he 
said,  u  These  many  years  do  I  serve  thee,  and  I  never 
transgressed  a  commandment  of  thine,"  the  boast  was 
no  exaggeration,  but  the  statement  of  a  simple  truth. 
Compared  with  the  life  of  the  prodigal,  the  life  of  the 
elder  brother  had  been  consistent,  conscientious,  and 
moral.  Where,  then,  was  his  failure,  his  lack  ?  It  was 
just  here,  in  the  lack  of  heart,  the  absence  of  affection. 
He  bore  the  name  of  a  son,  but  he  carried  the  heart  of 
a  servant.  His  nature  was  servile,  rather  than  filial ; 
and  while  his  hands  offered  a  service  unremitting  and 
precise,  it  was  the  cold  service  of  an  impassive  mechan- 
ism. Instead  of  love  passing  out  in  living  heart-throbs, 
suffusing  all  the  life  with  its  warmth,  and  clothing  it  in 
its  own  iridescent  colouring,  it  was  only  a  metallic 
mainspring  called  "  duty."  The  father's  presence  is 
not  the  delight  to  him ;  he  does  not  once  mention  that 
tender  name  in  which  the  repenting  one  finds  such  a 


xv.]  LOST  AND  FOUND.  331 

heaven  ;  and  when  he  draws  the  picture  of  his  highest 
happiness,  the  feast  of  his  earthly  Walhalla,  "  my 
friends "  are  there,  though  the  father  is  excluded. 
And  so  between  the  father  and  the  elder  brother, 
with  all  this  seeming  nearness,  there  was  a  distance 
of  reserve,  and  where  the  voices  of  affection  and  of 
constant  communion  should  have  been  heard  there  was 
too  often  a  vacancy  of  silence.  It  takes  a  heart  to  read 
a  heart ;  and  since  this  was  wanting  in  the  elder 
brother,  he  could  not  know  the  heart  of  the  father; 
he  could  not  understand  his  wild  joy.  He  had  no 
patience  with  his  }rounger  brother ;  and  had  he  re- 
ceived him  back  at  all,  it  would  have  been  with  a 
haughty  stiffness,  and  with  a  lowering  in  his  looks, 
which  should  have  been  at  once  a  rebuke  for  the  past 
and  a  warning  for  the  future.  The  father  looked  on 
his  son's  repentance ;  the  elder  brother  did  not  regard 
the  repentance  at  all ;  perhaps  he  had  not  heard  of  it, 
or  perhaps  he  could  not  understand  it ;  it  was  some- 
thing that  lay  out  of  the  plane  of  his  consciousness. 
He  saw  the  sin  only,  how  the  younger  son  had  devoured 
his  living  with  harlots ;  and  so  he  was  severe,  exacting, 
bitter.  He  would  have  brought  out  the  sackcloth,  but 
nothing  more ;  while  as  to  the  music  and  the  fatted 
calf,  they  would  appear  to  his  loveless  soul  as  an  absurd 
anachronism. 

But  far  removed  as  he  is  from  the  father's  spirit,  he 
is  still  his  son  ;  and  though  the  father  rejoices  more 
over  the  younger  than  over  the  elder,  as  was  but 
natural,  he  loves  them  both  with  an  equal  love.  He 
cannot  bear  that  there  should  be  any  estrangement 
now ;  and  he  even  leaves  the  festive  throng,  and  the 
son  he  has  welcomed  and  robed,  and  going  out,  he  begs, 
he  entreats  the  elder  brother  to  pass  in,  and  to  throw 


33*  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

himself  into  the  general  joy.  And  when  the  elder  son 
complains  that,  with  all  his  years  of  obedient,  dutiful 
service,  he  has  never  had  even  a  kid,  much  less  a  fatted 
calf,  on  which  to  feast  his  friends,  the  father  says, 
lovingly,  but  chidingly,  "Son  " — or  "  Child,"  rather,  for 
it  is  a  term  of  greater  endearment  than  the  "  son  "  he 
had  just  used  before — "thou  art  ever  with  me,  and  all 
that  is  mine  is  thine.  But  it  was  meet  to  make  merry 
and  be  glad  :  for  this  thy  brother  was  dead,  and  is  alive 
again  ;  and  wras  lost,  and  is  found."  He  plays  upon  the 
"child"  as  upon  a  harp,  that  he  may  drive  away  the 
evil  spirits  of  jealousy  and  anger,  and  that  even  within 
the  servant-heart  he  may  awake  some  chords,  if  only 
the  far-off  echoes  of  a  lost  childhood.  He  reminds  him 
how  vastly  different  their  two  positions  are.  For  him 
there  has  been  no  break  in  their  intercourse ;  the 
father's  house  has  been  his  home  ;  he  has  had  the  free 
range  of  all :  to  the  }rounger  that  home  has  been  no- 
thing but  a  distant  memory,  with  a  waste  of  dreary  years 
between.  He  has  been  heir  and  lord  of  all ;  and  so 
completely  have  father  and  son  been  identified,  their 
separate  personalities  merged  the  one  in  the  other,  that 
the  possessive  pronouns,  the  "  mine  "  and  the  "  thine," 
are  used  interchangeably.  The  younger  returns  penni- 
less, disinherited  by  his  own  misdeed.  Nay,  he  has 
been  as  one  dead ;  for  what  was  the  far  country  but  a 
vault  of  slimy  things,  the  sepulchre  of  a  dead  soul  ? 
"  And  should  we  not  make  merry  and  be  glad,  when 
thy  brother "  (it  is  the  antithesis  to  "  thy  son "  of 
ver.  30,  a  mutual  "  thy ")  "  comes  back  to  us  as  one 
raised  from  the  dead  ?  " 

Whether  the  father's  pleading  prevailed,  or  not,  we 
are  not  told.  We  can  but  hope  it  did,  and  that  the 
elder  brother,  with  his  asperities  all  dissolved,  and  his 


xv.]  LOST  AND  FOUND.  333 

jealousies  removed,  did  pass  within  to  share  the  general 
joy,  and  to  embrace  a  lost  brother.  Then  he  too  would 
know  the  sweetness  of  forgiveness,  and  taught  by  the 
erring  but  now  forgiven  one,  he  too  would  learn  to 
spell  out  more  correctly  that  deep  word  "  father,"  the 
word  he  had  stammered  at,  and  perhaps  misspelt 
before,  as  the  fatherhood  and  the  brotherhood  became 
to  him  not  ideas  merely,  but  bright  realities. 

Gathering  up  now  the  lessons  of  the  parables,  they 
show  us  (i)  the  Divine  grief  over  sin.  In  the  first 
two  this  is  the  prominent  thought,  the  sorrow  of  the 
loser.  God  is  represented  as  losing  that  which  is  of 
worth  to  Him,  something  serviceable,  and  therefore 
valuable.  In  the  third  parable  the  same  idea  is  sug- 
gested rather  than  stated  ;  but  the  thought  is  carried 
farther,  for  now  it  is  more  than  a  loss,  it  is  a  bereave- 
ment the  father  suffers.  The  retreating  form  of  the 
wanderer  throws  back  its  shadow  across  the  father's 
home  and  heart,  a  shadow  that  congeals  and  stays,  and 
that  is  darker  than  the  shadow  of  Death  itself.  It  is 
the  Divine  Grief,  whose  depths  we  cannot  sound,  and 
from  whose  mystery  we  must  stand  back,  not  one 
stone's  cast,  but  many. 

The  parables  show  (2)  the  sad  state  of  the  sinner. 
In  the  case  of  the  Lost  Sheep  and  the  Lost  Coin  we 
see  his  perfect  helplessness  to  recover  himself,  and 
that  he  must  remain  lost,  unless  One  higher  than  him- 
self undertakes  his  cause,  and  "  help  is  laid  upon  One 
that  is  mighty."  It  is  the  third  parable,  however, 
which  especially  emphasizes  the  downward  course  of 
sin  and  the  deepening  wretchedness  of  the  sinner. 
The  flowery  path  leads  on  to  a  valley  of  desolation. 
The  way  of  transgressors  is  ever  a  downward  path ; 
and  let  an  evil  spirit  possess  a  soul,  it  hurries  him 


334  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

directly  down  the  steep  place,  where,  unless  the  flight 
be  checked,  a  certain  destruction  awaits  him.  Sin 
degrades  and  isolates.  Want,  sorrow,  penury,  and 
pain  are  but  a  part  of  its  viperous  brood,  and  he  who 
plays  with  sin,  calling  it  freedom,  will  find  his  rod 
blossom  with  bitter  fruit,  or  he  will  see  it  grow  into 
a  serpent  with  poison  in  its  fangs. 

The  parables  show  (3)  God's  willingness  and  eager- 
ness to  save.  The  long  and  eager  search  after  the 
lost  sheep  and  the  lost  coin  show,  though  but  im- 
perfectly, the  supreme  efforts  God  makes  for  man's 
salvation.  He  is  not  left  to  wander  unrebuked  and 
unsought.  There  is  no  forbidden  path  along  which 
men  insanely  rush,  but  some  bright  angel  stands  beside 
it,  warning  back  the  sinner,  it  may  be  with  a  drawn 
sword,  some  "  terror  of  the  Lord,"  or  it  may  be  with 
a  cross,  the  sacrifice  of  an  infinite  love.  Though  He 
could  send  His  armies  to  destroy,  He  sends  His  mes- 
sengers to  win  us  back  to  obedience  and  to  love^ 
Conscience,  Memory,  Reason,  the  Word,  the  Spirit,  and 
even  the  well-beloved  Son.  Nor  is  the  great  search 
discontinued,  until  it  has  proved  to  be  in  vain. 

The  parables  show  (4)  the  eager  interest  Heaven 
takes  in  man's  salvation,  and  the  deep  joy  there  is 
among  the  angels  over  his  repentance  and  recovery. 
And  so  the  three  parables  close  with  a.  Jubilate.  The 
shepherd  rejoices  over  his  recovered  sheep  more  than 
over  the  ninety  and  nine  which  went  not  astray;  the 
woman  rejoices  over  the  one  coin  found  more  than 
over  the  nine  which  were  not  lost.  And  this  is  per- 
fectly ratural.  The  joy  of  acquisition  is  more  than 
the  joy  of  possession  ;  and  as  the  crest  of  the  waves 
is  thrown  up  above  the  mean  sea-level  by  the  alternate 
depths  of  depression,   so  the   very  sorrow  and  grief 


xv.]  LOST  AND  FOUND.  335 

over  the  loss  and  bereavement,  now  that  the  lost  is 
found  and  the  dead  is  alive,  throw  up  the  emotions 
beyond  their  mean  level,  up  to  the  summits  of  an 
exuberant  joy.  And  whether  Jesus  meant,  by  the 
ninety  and  nine  just  persons  who  needed  no  repentance, 
the  unfallen  intelligences  of  heaven,  or  whether,  as 
Godet  thinks,  He  referred  to  those  who  under  the 
Old  Covenant  were  sincere  doers  of  the  Law,  and 
who  found  their  righteousness  therein  (Deut.  vi.  25), 
it  is  still  true,  and  a  truth  stamped  with  a  Divine 
a  Verily,"  that  more  than  the  joy  of  Heaven  over  these 
is  its  joy  over  the  sinner  that  repented,  the  dead  who 
now  was  alive,  and  the  lost  who  now  was  found  ! 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
THE  ETHICS  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 

WHATEVER  of  truth  there  may  be  in  the  charge 
of  "  other-worldliness,"  as  brought  against  the 
modern  exponents  of  Christianity,  such  a  charge  could 
not  even  be  whispered  against  its  Divine  Founder.  It 
is  just  possible  that  the  Church  had  been  gazing  too 
steadfastly  up  into  heaven,  and  that  she  had  not  been 
studying  the  science  of  the  u  Humanities  "  as  zealously 
as  she  ought,  and  as  she  has  done  since;  but  Jesus  did 
not  allow  even  heavenly  things  to  obliterate  or  to  blur 
the  lines  of  earthly  duty.  We  might  have  supposed 
that  coming  down  from  heaven,  and  familiar  with  its 
secrets,  He  would  have  much  to  say  about  the  New 
World,  its  position  in  space,  its  society  and  manner  of 
life.  But  no ;  Jesus  says  little  about  the  life  which  is 
to  come ;  it  is  the  life  which  now  is  that  engrosses  His 
attention,  and  almost  monopolizes  His  speech.  Life 
with  Him  was  not  in  the  future  tense;  it  was  one 
living  present,  real,  earnest,  but  fugitive.  Indeed,  that 
future  was  but  the  present  projected  over  into  eternity. 
And  so  Jesus,  founding  the  kingdom  of  God  on  earth, 
and  summoning  all  men  into  it,  if  he  did  not  bring 
commandments  written  and  lithographed,  like  Moses, 
yet  He  did  lay  down  principles  and  rules  of  conduct, 
marking   out,   in  all  departments   of  human   life,  the 


THE  ETHICS  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  337 


straigr!..  and  white  lines  of  duty,  the  eternal  "ought." 
it  is  true  that  Jesus  Himself  did  not  originate  much  in 
this  department  of  Christian  ethics,  and  probably  for 
most  of  His  sayings  we  can  find  a  symphony  struck 
from  the  pages  of  earlier,  and  perhaps  heathen  moralists; 
but  in  the  wide  realm  of  Right  there  can  be  no  new  law. 
Principles  may  be  evolved,  interpreted ;  they  cannot  be 
created.  Right,  like  Truth,  holds  the  "eternal  years;" 
and  through  the  millenniums  before  Christ,  as  through 
the  millenniums  after,  Conscience,  that  "  ethical  intellect" 
which  speaks  to  all  men  if  they  will  but  draw  near  to 
her  Sinai  and  listen,  spoke  to  some  in  clear,  authorita- 
tive tones.  But  if  Jesus  did  no  more,  He  gathered  up 
the  "  broken  lights  "  of  earth,  the  intermittent  flashes 
which  had  played  on  the  horizon  before,  into  one 
steady  electric  beam,  which  lights  up  our  human  life 
outward  to  its  farthest  reach,  and  onward  to  its  farthest 
goal. 

In  the  mind  of  Jesus  conduct  was  the  outward  and 
visible  expression  of  some  inner  invisible  force.  As 
our  earth  moves  round  its  elliptic  in  obedience  to  the 
subtle  attractions  of  ether  outlying  worlds,  so  the  orbits 
of  human  lives,  whether  symmetrical  or  eccentric,  are 
determined  mainly  by  the  two  forces'  Character  and 
Circumstance.  Conduct  is  character  in  motion ;  for 
men  do  what  they  themselves  are,  i.e.  as  far  as  cir- 
cumstances will  allow.  And  it  is  just  at  this  point  the 
ethical  teaching  of  Jesus  begins.  He  recognizes  the 
imperium  in  imperio,  that  hidden  world  of  thought, 
feeling,  sentiment,  and  desire  which,  itself  invisible,  is 
the  mould  in  which  things  visible  are  cast.  And  so 
Jesus,  in  His  influence  upon  men,  worked  outward  from 
within.  He  sought,  not  reform,  but  regeneration, 
moulding  the  life  by  changing  the  character;   for,  to 

22 


338  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

use   His   own   figure,   how   could    the   thorn   produce 
grapes,  or  the  thistle  figs? 

And  so  when  Jesus  was  asked,  "What  shall  I  do 
that  I  may  inherit  eternal  life  ?  "  He  gave  an  answer 
which  at  first  sight  seemed  to  ignore  the  question 
entirely.  He  said  no  word  about  "  doing,"  but  threw 
the  questioner  back  upon  "  being,"  asking  what  was 
written  in  the  law:  "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy 
God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with 
all  thy  strength,  and  with  all  thy  mind ;  and  thy  neigh- 
bour as  thyself"  (x.  27).  And  as  Jesus  here  makes 
Love  the  condition  of  eternal  life,  its  sine  qua  non,  so 
He  makes  it  the  one  all-embracing  duty,  the  fulfilling 
of  the  law.  If  a  man  love  God  supremely,  and  his 
neighbour  as  himself,  he  cannot  do  more  ;  for  all  other 
commandments  are  included  in  these,  the  sub-sections 
of  the  greater  law.  Jesus  thus  sought  to  create  a  new 
force,  hiding  it  within  the  heart,  as  the  mainspring  of 
duty,  providing  for  that  duty  both  aim  and  inspiration. 
We  call  it  a  "  new  "  force,  and  such  it  was  practically  ; 
for  though  it  was,  in  a  way,  embedded  in  their  law,  it 
was  mainly  as  a  dead  letter,  so  much  so  that  when 
Jesus  bade  His  disciples  to  "love  one  another"  He 
called  it  a  "new  commandment."  Here,  then,  we  find 
what  is  at  once  the  rule  of  conduct  and  its  motive.  In 
the  new  system  of  ethics,  as  taught  and  enforced  by 
Jesus,  and  illustrated  by  His  life,  the  Law  of  Love  was 
to  be  supreme.  It  was  to  be  to  the  moral  world  what 
gravitation  is  to  the  natural,  a  silent  but  mighty  and 
all-pervasive  force,  throwing  its  spell  upon  the  isolated 
actions  of  the  common  day,  giving  impulse  and  direc- 
tion to  the  whole  current  of  life,  ruling  alike  the  little 
eddies  of  thought  and  the  wider  sweeps  of  benevolent 
activities.     To  Jesus  "  the  soul  of  improvement  was  the 


THE  ETHICS  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  339 

improvement  of  the  soul."  He  laid  His  hand  upon  the 
heart's  innermost  shrine,  building  up  that  unseen  temple 
four-square,  like  the  city  of  the  Apocalypse,  and  light- 
ing up  all  its  windows  with  the  warm,  iridescent  light 
of  love. 

With  this,  then,  as  the  foundation-tone,  running 
through  all  the  spaces  and  along  all  the  lines  of  life,  the 
thoughts,  desires,  words,  and  acts  must  all  harmonize 
with  love  ;  and  if  they  do  not,  if  they  strike  a  note  that 
is  foreign  to  its  key-tone,  it  breaks  the  harmony  at 
once,  throwing  jars  and  discords  into  the  music.  Such 
a  breach  of  the  harmonic  law  would  be  called  a  mistake, 
but  when  it  is  a  breach  of  Christ's  moral  law  it  is 
more  than  a  mistake,  it  is  a  wrong. 

Before  passing  to  the  outer  life  Jesus  pauses,  in  this 
Gospel,  to  correct  certain  dissonances  of  mind  and  soul, 
of  thought  and  feeling,  which  put  us  in  a  wrong  attitude 
towards  our  fellows.  First  of  all,  He  forbids  us  to  sit 
in  judgment  upon  others.  He  says,  "Judge  not,  and 
ye  shall  not  be  judged  :  and  condemn  not,  and  ye  shall 
not  be  condemned  "  (vi.  37).  This  does  not  mean  that 
we  close  our  eyes  with  a  voluntary  blindness,  working 
our  way  through  life  like  moles  ;  nor  does  it  mean  that 
we  keep  our  opinions  in  a  state  of  flux,  not  allowing 
them  to  crystallize  into  thought,  or  to  harden  into  the 
leaden  alphabets  of  human  speech.  There  is  within  us 
all  a  moral  sense,  a  miniature  Sinai,  and  we  can  no 
more  suppress  its  thunders  or  sheath  its  lightnings  than 
we  can  hush  the  breakers  of  the  shore  into  silence,  or 
suppress  the  play  of  the  Northern  Lights.  But  in  that 
unconscious  judgment  we  pass  upon  the  actions  of 
others,  with  our  condemnation  of  the  wrong,  we  pass 
our  sentence  upon  the  wrong-doer,  mentally  ejecting 
him  from  the  courtesies  and  sympathies  of  life,  and 


340  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

if  we  allow  him  to  live  at  all,  compelling  him  to  live 
apart,  as  a  moral  incurable.  And  so,  with  our  hatred 
of  the  sin,  we  learn  to  hate  the  sinner,  and  calling 
from  him  both  our  charities  and  our  hopes,  we  hurl 
him  down  into  some  little  Gehenna  of  our  own.  But 
it  is  exactly  this  feeling,  this  kind  of  judgment,  the 
Law  of  Love  condemns.  We  may  "  hate  the  sin,  and 
yet  the  sinner  love,"  keeping  him  still  within  the  circle 
of  our  sympathies  and  our  hopes.  It  is  not  meet  that 
we  should  be  merciless  who  have  ourselves  experienced 
so  much  of  mercy ;  nor  is  it  for  us  to  hale  others  off 
to  prison,  or  ruthlessly  to  exact  the  uttermost  farthing, 
when  we  ourselves  at  the  very  best  are  erring  and 
unfaithful  servants,  standing  so  much  and  so  often  in 
need  of  forgiveness. 

But  there  is  another  "judging"  that  the  command  of 
Christ  condemns,  and  that  is  the  hasty  and  the  false 
judgments  we  pass  on  the  motives  and  lives  of  others. 
How  apt  we  are  to  depreciate  the  worth  of  others  who 
do  not  happen  to  belong  to  our  circle !  We  look  so 
intently  for  their  faults  and  foibles  that  we  become  blind 
to  their  excellences.  We  forget  that  there  is  some 
good  in  every  person,  some  that  we  can  see  if  we  only 
look,  and  we  may  be  always  sure  that  there  is  some  we 
cannot  see.  We  should  not  prejudge.  We  should  not 
form  our  opinion  upon  an  ex  parte  statement.  We 
should  not  leave  the  heart  too  open  to  the  flying 
germs  of  rumour,  and  we  should  discount  heavily 
any  damaging,  disparaging  statement.  We  should  not 
allow  ourselves  to  draw  too  many  inferences,  for  he 
who  is  given  to  drawing  inferences  draws  largely  on  his 
imagination.  We  should  think  slowly  in  our  judgment 
of  others,  for  he  who  leaps  to  conclusions  generally 
takes  his  leap  in  the  dark.     We  should  learn  to  wait  for 


THE  ETHICS  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  341 


the  second  thoughts,  for  they  are  often  truer  than  the 
first.  Nor  is  it  wise  to  use  too  much  "  the  spur  of  the 
moment;"  it  is  a  sharp  weapon,  and  is  apt  to  cut  both 
ways.  We  should  not  interpret  others'  motives  by 
our  own  feelings,  nor  should  we  "  suppose  "  too  much. 
Above  all,  we  should  be  charitable,  judging  of  others 
as  we  judge  ourselves.  Perhaps  the  beam  that  is  in  a 
brother's  eye  is  but  the  magnified  mote  that  is  in  our 
own.  It  is  better  to  learn  the  art  of  appreciating  than 
that  of  depreciating ;  for  though  the  one  is  easy,  and  the 
other  difficult,  yet  he  who  looks  for  the  good,  and  exalts 
the  good,  will  make  the  very  wilderness  to  blossom  and 
be  glad ;  while  he  who  depreciates  everything  outside 
his  own  little  self  impoverishes  life,  and  makes  the  very 
garden  of  the  Lord  one  arid,  barren  desert. 

Again,  Jesus  condemns  pride,  as  being  a  direct  con- 
travention of  His  Law  of  Love.  Love  rejoices  in  the 
possessions  and  gifts  of  others,  nor  would  she  care 
to  add  to  her  own  if  it  must  be  at  the  cost  of  theirs. 
Love  is  an  equalizer,  levelling  up  the  inequalities  the 
accidents  of  life  have  made,  and  preferring  to  stand  on 
some  lower  level  with  her  fellows  than  to  sit  solitary 
on  some  lofty  and  cold  Olympus.  Pride,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  a  repelling,  separating  force.  Scorning  those 
who  occupy  the  lower  places,  she  is  contented  only  on 
her  Olympian  summit,  where  she  keeps  herself  warm 
with  the  fires  of  her  self-adulation.  The  proud  heart 
is  the  loveless  heart,  one  huge  inflation ;  if  she  carries 
others  at  all,  it  is  only  as  a  steadying  ballast ;  she  will 
not  hesitate  to  throw  them  over  and  throw  them  down, 
as  mere  dust  or  sand,  if  their  fall  will  help  her  to  rise. 
Pride,  like  the  eagle,  builds  her  nest  on  high,  bringing 
forth  whole  broods  of  loveless,  preying  passions,  hatreds, 
jealousies,  and  hypocrisies.     Pride  sees  no  brotherhood 


342  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

in  man  ;  humanity  to  her  means  no  more  than  so  many 
serfs  to  wait  upon  her  pleasure,  or  so  many  victims  for 
her  sacrifice !  And  how  Jesus  loved  to  prick  these 
bubbles  of  airy  nothings,  showing  up  these  vanities  as 
the  very  essence  of  selfishness  !  He  did  not  spare  His 
words,  even  though  they  stung,  when  "He  marked  how 
they  chose  out  the  chief  seats  "  at  the  friendly  supper 
(xiv.  7);  and  one  of  His  bitter  "woes"  He  hurled  at 
the  Pharisees  just  because  "  they  loved  the  chief  seats 
in  the  synagogues,"  worshipping  Self,  when  they  pre- 
tended to  worship  God,  so  making  the  house  of  God 
itself  an  arena  for  the  sport  and  play  of  their  proud 
ambitions.  "  He  that  is  least  among  you  all,"  He  said, 
when  rebuking  the  disciples'  lust  for  pre-eminence, 
"the  same  is  great."  And  such  is  Heaven's  law: 
humility  is  the  cardinal  virtue,  the  "  strait "  and  low 
gate  which  opens  into  the  very  heart  of  the  kingdom. 
Humility  is  the  one  and  the  only  way  of  heavenly 
preferments  and  eternal  promotions ;  for  in  the  life  to 
come  there  will  be  strange  contrasts  and  inversions, 
as  he  that  exalted  himself  is  now  humbled,  and  he  that 
humbled  himself  is  now  exalted  (xiv.  11). 

Tracing  now  the  lines  of  duty  as  they  run  across  the 
outer  life,  we  find  them  following  the  same  directions. 
As  the  golden  milestone  of  the  Forum  marked  the  centre 
of  the  empire,  towards  which  its  roads  converged,  and 
from  which  all  distances  were  measured,  so  in  the 
Christian  commonwealth  Jesus  makes  Love  the  capital, 
the  central,  controlling  power ;  while  at  the  focal  point 
of  all  the  duties  He  sets  up  His  Golden  Rule,  which 
gives  direction  to  all  the  paths  of  human  conduct : 
"  And  as  ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye 
also  to  them  likewise"  (vi.  31).  In  this  general  law 
we  have  what  we  might  call  the  ethical  compass,  for  it 


THE  ETHICS  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  343 


embraces  within  its  circle  the  " whole  duty  of  man" 
towards  his  fellow;  and  it  only  needs  an  adjusted 
conscience,  like  the  delicately  poised  needle,  and  the 
line  of  the  "  ought "  can  be  read  off  at  once,  even  in 
those  uncertain  latitudes  where  no  specific  law  is  found. 
Are  we  in  doubt  as  to  what  course  of  conduct  to  pursue, 
as  to  the  kind  of  treatment  we  should  accord  to  our 
fellow?  we  can  always  find  the  via  recta  by  a  short 
mental  transposition.  We  have  only  to  put  ourselves 
in  his  place,  and  to  imagine  our  relative  positions 
reversed,  and  from  the  "would"  of  our  supposed 
desires  and  hopes  we  read  the  "ought"  of  present 
duty.  The  Golden  Rule  is  thus  a  practical  exposition 
of  the  Second  Commandment,  investing  our  neighbour 
with  the  same  luminous  atmosphere  we  throw  about 
ourselves,  the  atmosphere  of  a  benevolent,  beneficent 
love. 

But  beyond  this  general  law  Jesus  gives  us  a  prescript 
as  to  the  treatment  of  enemies.  He  says,  "Love  your 
enemies,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  bless  them  that 
curse  you,  pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use  you.  To 
him  that  smiteth  thee  on  the  one  cheek  offer  also  the 
other:  and  from  him  that  taketh  away  thy  cloak  withhold 
not  thy  coat  also  "  (vi.  27-29).  In  considering  these  in- 
junctions we  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  word  "enemy"  in 
its  New  Testament  meaning  had  not  the  wide  and  general 
signification  it  has  to-day.  It  then  stood  in  antithesis 
to  the  word  "  neighbour,"  as  in  Matt.  v.  43  ;  and  as  the 
word  "neighbour"  to  the  Jew  included  those,  and  those 
only,  who  were  of  the  Hebrew  race  and  faith,  the  word 
"  enemy "  referred  to  those  outside,  who  were  aliens 
from  the  commonwealth  of  Israel.  To  the  Hebrew 
mind  it  stood  as  a  synonym  for  u  Gentile."  In  these 
words,  then,  we  find,  not  a  general  and  universal  law, 


344  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

but  the  special  instructions  as  to  their  course  of  con- 
duct in  dealing  with  the  Gentiles,  to  whom  they  would 
shortly  be  sent.  No  matter  what  their  treatment,  they 
must  bear  it  with  an  uncomplaining  patience.  Stripped, 
beaten,  they  must  not  resist,  much  less  retaliate ;  they 
must  not  allow  any  vindictive  feelings  to  possess  them, 
nor  must  they  take  in  their  own  hot  hand  the  sword  of 
a  "  sweet  revenge."  Nay,  they  must  even  bear  a  good- 
will towards  their  enemies,  repaying  their  hate  with 
love,  their  spite  and  enmity  with  prayers,  and  their 
curses  with  sincerest  benedictions. 

It  will  be  observed  that  no  mention  is  made  of  re- 
pentance or  of  restitution  :  without  waiting  for  these, 
or  even  expecting  them,  they  must  be  prepared  to  for- 
give and  prepared  to  love  their  enemies,  even  while 
they  are  shamefully  treating  them.  And  what  else, 
under  the  circumstances,  could  they  have  done  ?  If 
they  appealed  to  the  secular  power  it  would  simply 
have  been  an  appeal  to  a  heathen  court,  from  enemies 
to  enemies.  And  as  to  waiting  for  repentance,  their 
"enemies"  are  only  treating  them  as  enemies,  aliens 
and  foreigners,  wronging  them,  it  is  true,  but  ignorantly, 
and  not  through  any  personal  malice.  They  must  for- 
give just  for  the  same  reason  that  Jesus  forgave  His 
Roman  murderers,   "  for  they  know  not  what  they  do." 

We  cannot,  therefore,  take  these  injunctions,  which 
evidently  had  a  special  and  temporary  application,  as 
the  literal  rule  of  conduct  towards  those  who  are  un- 
friendly or  hostile  to  us.  This,  however,  is  plain,  that 
even  our  enemies,  whose  enmity  is  directly  personal 
rather  than  sectional  or  racial,  are  not  to  be  excluded 
from  the  Law  of  Love.  We  must  bear  them  neither 
hatred  nor  resentment ;  we  must  guard  our  hearts 
cacredly  from  all  malevolent,  vindictive  feelings.     We 


THE  ETHICS    OF  THE  GOSPEL.  345 

must  not  be  our  own  avenger,  taking  vengeance  upon 
our  adversaries,  as  we  let  loose  the  barking  Cerberus 
to  track  and  run  them  down.  All  such  feelings  are 
contrary  to  the  Law  of  Love,  and  so  are  contraband, 
entirely  foreign  to  the  heart  that  calls  itself  Christian. 
But  with  all  this  we  are  not  to  meet  all  sorts  of  injuries 
and  wrongs  without  protest  or  resistance.  We  cannot 
condone  a  wrong  without  being  accomplices  in  the 
wrong.  To  defend  our  property  and  life  is  just  as 
much  our  duty  as  it  was  the  wisdom  and  the  duty  of 
those  to  whom  Jesus  spoke  to  offer  an  uncomplaining 
cheek  to  the  Gentile  smiter.  Not  to  do  this  is  to  en- 
courage crime,  and  to  put  a  premium  upon  evil.  Nor 
is  it  inconsistent  with  a  true  love  to  seek  to  punish, 
by  lawful  means,  the  wrong-doer.  Justice  here  is  the 
highest  type  of  mercy,  and  pains  and  penalties  have 
a  remedial  virtue,  taming  the  passions  which  had  grown 
too  wild,  or  straightening  the  conscience  that  had 
become  warped. 

And  so  Jesus,  speaking  of  the  "  offences,"  the  occa- 
sions of  stumbling  that  would  come,  said,  "If  thy 
brother  sin,  rebuke  him  ;  and  if  he  repent,  forgive  him  " 
(xvii.  3).  It  is  not  the  patient,  silent  acquiescence  now. 
No,  we  must  rebuke  the  brother  who  has  sinned  against 
us  and  wronged  us.  And  if  this  is  vain,  we  must  tell 
it  to  the  Church,  as  St.  Matthew  completes  the  injunc- 
tion (xviii.  17);  and  if  the  offender  will  not  hear  thi 
Church,  he  must  be  cast  out,  ejected  from  their  fellow- 
ship, and  becoming  to  their  thought  as  a  heathen  or  b 
publican.  The  wrong,  though  it  is  a  brother  who  does 
it,  must  not  be  glossed  over  with  the  enamel  of  a 
euphemism  ;  nor  must  it  be  hushed  up,  veiled  by  a 
guilty  silence.  It  must  be  brought  to  the  light  of  day , 
it  must    be  rebuked    and    punished  ;   nor  must   it  be 


346  THE   GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

forgiven  until  it  is  repented  of.  Let  there  be,  however, 
a  genuine  repentance,  and  there  must  be  on  our  part 
the  prompt  and  complete  forgiveness  of  the  wrong. 
We  must  set  it  back  out  of  our  sight,  amongst  the  for- 
gotten things.  And  if  the  wrong  be  repeated,  if  the 
repentance  be  repeated,  the  forgiveness  must  be  re- 
peated too,  not  only  for  seven  times  seven  offences, 
but  for  seventy  times  seven.  Nor  is  it  left  to  our  option 
whether  we  forgive  or  no  ;  it  is  a  duty,  absolute  and 
imperative ;  we  must  forgive,  as  we  ourselves  hope  to 
be  forgiven. 

Again,  Jesus  treats  of  the  true  use  of  wealth.  He 
Himself  assumed  a  voluntary  poverty.  Silver  and 
gold  had  He  none ;  indeed,  the  only  coin  that  we  read 
He  handled  was  the  borrowed  Roman  penny,  with 
Caesar's  inscription  upon  it.  But  while  Jesus  Himself 
preferred  poverty,  choosing  to  live  on  the  outflowing 
charities  of  those  who  felt  it  both  a  privilege  and  an 
honour  to  minister  to  Him  of  their  substance,  yet  He 
did  not  condemn  wealth.  It  was  not  a  wrong  per  se. 
In  the  Old  Testament  it  had  been  regarded  as  a  sign 
of  Heaven's  special  favour,  and  amongst  the  rich  Jesus 
Himself  found  some  of  His  warmest,  truest  friends — 
friends  who  came  nobly  to  the  front  when  some  who 
had  made  louder  professions  had  ignominiously  fled. 
Nor  did  Jesus  require  the  renunciation  of  wealth  as  the 
condition  of  discipleship.  He  did  not  advocate  that 
fictitious  egalite  of  the  Commune.  He  sought  rather  to 
level  up  than  to  level  down.  It  is  true  He  did  say  to 
the  ruler,  "  Sell  all  that  thou  hast,  and  distribute  unto 
the  poor;"  but  this  was  an  exceptional  case,1  and 
probably  it  was  put  before  him  as  a  test  command,  like 

*  This  demand  was  made  from  the  Apostles  (xii.  33),  but  not  from 
others  beyond  the  Apostolic  circle. 


THE  ETHICS  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  347 

the  command  to  Abraham  that  he  should  sacrifice  his 
son — which  was  not  intended  to  be  carried  out  literally, 
but  only  as  far  as  the  intention,  the  will.  There  was 
no  such  demand  made  from  Nicodemus,  and  when 
Zacchaeus  testified  that  it  had  been  his  practice  (the 
present  tense  would  indicate  a  retrospective  rather  than 
a  prospective  rule)  to  give  one-half  of  his  income  to  the 
poor,  Jesus  does  not  find  fault  with  his  division,  and 
demand  the  other  half;  He  commends  him,  and  passes 
him  up,  right  over  the  excommunication  of  the  rabbis, 
among  the  true  sons  of  Abraham.  Jesus  did  not  pose 
as  an  assessor  ;  He  left  men  to  divide  their  own  inherit- 
ance. It  was  enough  for  Him  if  He  could  put  within 
the  soul  this  new  force,  the  "  moral  dynamic  "  of  love 
to  God  and  man;  then  the  outward  relations  would 
shape  themselves,  regulated  as  by  some  automatic 
action. 

Bat  with  all  this,  Jesus  recognized  the  peculiar  temp- 
tations and  dangers  of  wealth.  He  saw  how  riches 
tend  to  engross  and  monopolize  the  thought,  diverting 
it  from  higher  things,  and  so  He  classed  riches  with 
cares,  pleasures,  which  choke  the  Word  of  life,  and  make 
it  unfruitful.  He  saw  how  wealth  tended  to  selfish- 
ness; that  it  acted  as  an  astringent,  closing  up  the 
valves  of  the  heart,  and  thus  shutting  down  the  outflow 
of  its  sympathies.  And  so  Jesus,  whenever  He  spoke 
of  wealth,  spoke  in  words  of  warning :  "  How  hardly 
shall  they  that  have  riches  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God  ! "  He  said,  when  He  saw  how  the  rich  ruler  set 
wealth  before  faith  and  hope.  And  singularly  enough, 
the  only  times  Jesus,  in  His  parables,  lifts  up  the  curtain 
of  doom  it  is  to  tell  of  "  certain  rich  "  men — the  one, 
whose  soul  swung  selfishly  between  his  banquets  and 
his  barns,  and  who,  alas !  had  laid  up  no  treasures  in 


348  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

heaven ;  and  the  other,  who  exchanged  his  purple  and 
fine  linen  for  the  folds  of  enveloping  flames,  and  the 
sumptuous  fare  of  earth  for  eternal  want,  the  eternal 
hunger  and  thirst  of  the  after-retribution  ! 

What,  then,  is  the  true  use  of  wealth  ?  and  how 
may  we  so  hold  it  that  it  shall  prove  a  blessing,  and 
not  a  bane  ?  In  the  first  place,  we  must  hold  it  in  our 
hand,  and  not  lay  it  up  in  the  heart.  We  must  possess 
it ;  it  must  not  possess  us.  We  may  give  our  thought, 
moderately,  to  it,  but  our  affections  must  not  be  allowed 
to  centre  upon  it.  We  read  that  the  Pharisees  "were 
lovers  of  money"  (xvi.  14),  and  that  argentic  passion 
was  the  root  of  all  their  evils.  The  love  of  money,  like 
an  opiate,  little  by  little,  steals  over  the  whole  frame, 
deadening  the  sensibility,  perverting  the  judgment,  and 
weakening  the  will,  producing  a  kind  of  intoxication, 
in  which  the  better  reason  is  lost,  and  the  confused 
speech  can  only  articulate,  with  Shylock,  "  My  ducats, 
my  ducats  ! "  The  true  way  of  holding  wealth  is  to 
hold  it  in  trust,  recognizing  God's  ownership  and  our 
stewardship.  Bank  it  up,  give  it  no  outlet,  and  your 
wealth  becomes  a  stagnant  pool,  breeding  malaria  and 
burning  fevers ;  but  open  the  channel,  give  it  an  outlet, 
and  it  will  bring  life  and  music  to  a  thousand  lowei 
vales,  increasing  the  happiness  of  others,  and  increas- 
ing your  own  the  more.  And  so  Jesus  strikes  in  with 
His  frequent  imperative,  "  Give  " — "  Give,  and  it  shall  be 
given  unto  you  ;  good  measure,  pressed  down,  shaken 
together,  running  over,  shall  they  give  into  your 
bosom  "  (vi.  38).  And  this  is  the  true  use  of  wealth, 
its  consecration  to  the  needs  of  humanity.  And  may 
we  not  say  that  here  is  its  truest  pleasure  ?  He  who 
has  learned  the  art  of  generous  giving,  who  makes  his 
life  one  large-hearted  benevolence,  living  for  others  and 


THE  ETHICS  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  349 

not  for  himself,  has  acquired  an  art  that  is  beautiful 
and  Divine,  an  art  that  turns  the  deserts  into  gardens 
of  the  Lord,  and  that  peoples  the  sky  overhead  with 
unseen  singing  Ariels.  Giving  and  living  are  heavenly 
synonyms,  and  he  who  giveth  most  liveth  best. 

But  not  from  the  words  of  Jesus  alone  do  we  read 
off  the  lines  of  our  duty.  He  is  in  His  own  Person 
a  Polar  Star,  to  whom  all  the  meridians  of  our  round 
life  turn,  and  from  whom  they  emanate.  His  life  is 
thus  our  law,  His  example  our  pattern.  Do  we  wish 
to  learn  what  are  the  duties  of  children  to  their  parents  ? 
the  thirty  silent  years  of  Nazareth  speak  in  answer. 
They  show  us  how  the  Boy  Jesus  is  in  subjection  to 
His  parents,  giving  to  them  a  perfect  obedience,  a 
perfect  trust,  and  a  perfect  love.  They  show  us  the 
Divine  Youth,  still  shut  in  within  that  narrow  circle, 
ministering  to  that  circle,  by  hard  manual  toil  becoming 
the  stay  of  that  fatherless  home.  Do  we  wish  to  learn 
our  duties  to  the  State  ?  See  how  Jesus  walked  in 
a  land  across  which  the  Roman  eagle  had  cast  its 
shadow  1  He  did  not  preach  a  crusade  against  the 
barbarian  invaders.  He  recognized  in  their  presence 
and  power  the  ordination  of  God — that  they  had  been 
sent  to  chastise  a  lapsed  Israel.  And  so  Jesus  spoke 
no  word  of  denunciation,  no  fiery  word,  which  might 
have  proved  the  spark  of  a  revolution.  He  took 
Himself  away  from  the  multitudes  when  they  would 
by  force  make  Him  King.  He  spoke  in  respectful  terms 
of  the  powers  that  were ;  He  even  justified  the  payment 
of  tribute  to  Csesar,  acknowledging  his  lordship,  while 
at  the  same  time  He  spoke  of  the  higher  tribute  to 
the  great  Over-Lord,  even  God.  When  upon  His  trial 
for  life  or  death,  before  a  Roman  tribunal,  He  even 
stayed  to  apologize  for  Pilate's  weakness,  casting  the 


350  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

heavier  sin  back  on  the  hierarchy  that  had  bought 
Him  and  delivered  Him  up;  while  upon  the  cross, 
amid  its  untold  agonies,  though  His  lips  were  glued 
by  a  fearful  thirst,  He  opened  them  to  breathe  a  last 
prayer  for  His  Roman  executioners  :  "  Father,  forgive 
them ;  for  they  know  not  what  they  do." 

But  was  Jesus,  then,  an  alien  from  His  kinsmen 
according  to  the  flesh?  Was  patriotism  to  Him  an 
unknown  force  ?  Did  He  know  nothing  of  love  of 
country,  that  inspiration  which  has  turned  common 
men  into  heroes  and  martyrs,  that  love  which  oceans 
cannot  quench,  nor  distance  weaken,  which  throws 
an  auroral  brightness  around  the  most  sterile  shores, 
and  which  makes  the  emigrant  sick  with  a  strange 
Heimweh  ?  Did  the  Son  of  man,  the  ideal  Man,  know 
nothing  at  all  of  this  ?  He  did  know  it,  and  know  it 
well.  He  identified  Himself  thoroughly  with  His 
people ;  He  placed  Himself  under  the  law,  observing 
its  rites  and  ceremonies.  After  the  Childhood-exile  in 
Egypt,  He  scarcely  passed  out  of  the  sacred  bounds ; 
no  storms  of  rough  persecution  could  dislodge  the 
heavenly  Dove,  or  send  Him  wheeling  off  from  His 
native  hills.  And  if  He  did  not  preach  rebellion,  He 
did  preach  that  righteousness  which  gives  to  a  nation 
its  truest  wealth  and  widest  liberty.  He  did  denounce 
the  Pharisaic  shams,  the  hollow  hypocrisies,  which  had 
eaten  away  the  nation's  heart  and  strength.  And  how 
He  loved  Jerusalem,  forgetting  His  own  triumph  in 
the  vision  of  her  humiliation,  and  weeping  for  the 
desolations  which  were  coming  sure  and  fast  1  This, 
the  Holy  City,  was  the  centre  to  which  He  ever 
returned,  and  to  which  He  gave  His  last  bequest — His 
cross  and  His  grave.  Nay,  when  the  cross  is  taken 
down,  and  the  grave  is  vacant,  He  lingers  to  give  His 


THE  ETHICS  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  351 

Apostles  their  commission  ;  and  when  He  bids  them, 
"Go  ye  out  into  all  the  world,"  He  adds,  "beginning 
at  Jerusalem."  The  Son  of  man  is  the  Son  of  David 
still,  and  within  His  deep  love  for  humanity  at  large 
was  a  peculiar  love  for  His  "own,"  as  the  ark  itself 
was  enshrined  within  the  Holy  of  holies. 

And  so  we  might  traverse  the  whole  ethical  domain, 
and  we  should  find  no  duty  which  is  not  enforced  or 
suggested  by  the  words  or  the  life  of  the  great  Teacher. 
As  Dr.  Dorner  says,  "  There  is  only  one  morality ; 
the  original  of  it  is  in  God ;  the  copy  of  it  is  in  the 
Man  of  God."  Happy  is  He  who  sees  this  Polar  Star, 
whose  light  shines  clear  and  calm  above  the  rush  of 
human  years  and  the  ebbs  and  flows  of  human  life  ! 
Happier  still  is  he  who  shapes  his  course  by  it,  who 
reads  off  all  his  bearings  from  its  light !  He  who 
builds  his  life  after  the  Divine  model,  reading  the 
Christ-life  into  his  own,  will  build  up  another  city  of 
God  on  earth,  four-square  and  compact  together,  a 
city  of  peace,  because  a  city  of  righteousness  and  a 
city  of  love. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 
THE  ESCHATOLOGY  OF  THE  GOSPEL, 

COIFI,  in  his  parable  to  the  thanes  and  nobles  of 
the  North  Humber  country,  likened  the  present 
life  of  man  to  the  flight  of  a  sparrow  through  one  of 
their  lighted  halls,  coming  out  of  the  night,  and  then 
disappearing  in  the  dark  winter  whence  it  came ;  and 
he  asked  for  Christianity  a  candid  hearing,  if  perhaps 
she  might  tell  the  secrets  of  the  beyond.  And  so 
indeed  she  does,  lighting  up  the  "dark  winter"  with 
a  bright,  though  a  partial  apocalypse.  It  is  not  our 
purpose  to  enter  into  a  general  discussion  of  the 
subject;  our  task  is  simply  to  arrest  the  beams  of 
inspired  light  hiding  within  this  Gospel,  and  by  a  sort 
of  spectrum  analysis  to  read  from  them  what  they  are 
permitted  to  reveal.     And — 

I.  The  Gospel  teaches  that  the  grave  is  not  the  end 
of  life.  It  may  seem  as  if  we  were  stating  but  a 
truism  in  saying  this ;  yet  if  a  truism,  it  perhaps  has 
not  been  allowed  its  due  place  in  our  thought,  and  its 
restatement  may  not  be  altogether  a  superfluous  word. 
We  cannot  study  the  life  of  Jesus  without  noticing  that 
His  views  of  earth  were  not  the  views  of  men  in 
general.  To  them  this  world  was  everything;  to 
possess  it,  even  in  some  infinitesimal  quantity,  was  their 
supreme  ambition ;  and  though  in  their  better,  clearer 


THE  ESCHATOLOGY  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  353 

moments  they  caught  glimpses  of  worlds  other  than 
their  own,  yet  to  their  distant  vision  they  were  as  the 
twinkling  stars  of  the  azure,  far  off  and  cold,  soon 
losing  themselves  in  the  haze  of  unreality,  or  setting  in 
the  shadows  of  the  imposing  earth.  To  Jesus  earth 
was  but  a  fragment  of  a  vaster  whole,  a  fragment 
whose  substances  were  but  the  shadows  of  higher, 
heavenlier  realities.  Nor  were  these  outlying  spaces 
to  His  mind  voids  of  silence,  a  "  dark  inane,"  without 
life  or  thought;  they  were  peopled  with  intelligences 
whose  personalities  were  as  distinctly  marked  as  is  this 
human  Ego,  and  whose  movements,  unweighted  by  the 
gyves  of  flesh,  seemed  subtle  and  swift  as  thought 
itself.  With  one  of  these  worlds  Jesus  was  perfectly 
familiar.  With  heaven,  which  was  the  abode  of  His 
Father  and  innumerable  hosts  of  angels,  He  was  in 
close  and  constant  correspondence,  and  the  frequent 
prayer,  the  frequent  upward  looks  tell  us  how  near  and 
how  intensely  real  the  heavenly  places  were  to  Him. 
But  in  the  mind  of  Jesus  this  empyrean  of  happiness 
and  light  had  its  antipodes  of  woe  and  darkness,  a 
penal  realm  of  fearful  shadow,  and  which,  borrowing  the 
language  of  the  city,  He  called  the  Gehenna  of  burning. 
Such  were  the  two  invisible  realms,  lying  away  from 
earth,  yet  closely  touching  it  from  opposite  directions, 
and  to  one  or  other  of  which  all  the  paths  of  human 
life  turned,  to  find  their  goal  and  their  self-chosen 
destiny. 

And  not  only  so,  but  the  transition  from  the  Seen 
to  the  Unseen  was  not  to  Jesus  the  abrupt  and  total 
change  that  it  seems  to  man.  To  us  the  dividing-line 
is  both  dark  and  broad.  It  seems  to  us  a  transmigration 
to  some  new  and  strange  world,  where  we  must  bee  in 
life  de  novo.     To  Jesus  the  line  was  narrow,  like  one  of 

23 


354  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

the  imaginary  meridians  of  earth,  the  "here"  shading  off 
into  the  "hereafter/'  while  both  were  but  the  hemispheres 
of  one  round  life.  And  so  Jesus  did  not  often  speak  of 
"  death  ;  n  that  was  too  human  a  word.  He  preferred 
the  softer  names  of  "sleep"  or  "exodus,"  thus  mak- 
ing death  the  quickener  of  life,  or  likening  it  to  a 
triumphal  march  from  bondage  to  liberty.  Nor  was  "  the 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  "  to  Jesus  a  strange,  unfamiliar 
place.  He  knew  all  its  secrets,  all  its  windings.  It 
was  His  own  territory,  where  His  will  was  supreme. 
Again  and  again  He  throws  a  commanding  voice  across 
the  valley,  a  voice  which  goes  reverberating  among 
the  heights  beyond,  and  instantly  the  departed  spirit 
retraces  its  steps,  to  animate  again  the  cold  clay  it  had 
forsaken.  "  He  is  not  the  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the 
living,"  said  Jesus,  as  He  claimed  for  Abraham,  Isaac, 
and  Jacob  an  existence  altogether  apart  from  the 
crumbling  dust  of  Hebron ;  and  as  we  see  Moses  and 
Elias  coming  to  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration,  we  see 
that  the  departed  have  not  so  far  departed  as  to  take 
no  interest  in  earthly  things,  and  as  not  to  hear  the 
strike  of  earthly  hours.  And  how  clearly  this  is  seen 
in  the  resurrection  life  of  Jesus,  with  which  this 
Gospel  closes !  Death  and  the  Grave  have  done  their 
worst  to  Him,  but  how  little  is  that  worst!  how 
insignificant  the  blank  it  makes  in  the  Divine  Life  I 
The  few  hours  in  the  grave  were  but  a  semibreve 
rest  in  the  music  of  that  Life;  the  Easter  morning 
struck  a  fresh  bar,  and  the  music  went  on,  in  the  higher 
spaces,  it  is  true,  but  in  the  same  key  and  in  the  same 
sweet  strain.  And  just  so  is  it  with  all  human  life; 
"  the  grave  is  not  our  goal."  Conditions  and  circum- 
stances will  of  necessity  change,  as  the  mortal  puts  on 
immortality,  but  the  life  itself  will  be  one  and  the  same 


THE  ESCHATOLOGY  OF  THE   GOSPEL.  355 

life,  here  amid  things  visible  and  temporal,  and  there 
amid  the  invisible  and  eternal. 

2.  The  Gospel  shows  in  what  respects  the  conditions 
of  the  after-life  will  be  changed.  In  chapter  xx.  27  we 
read  how  that  the  Sadducees  came  to  Jesus,  tempting 
Him.  They  were  the  cold  materialists  of  the  age, 
denying  the  existence  of  spirits,  and  so  denying  the 
resurrection.  They  put  before  Him  an  extreme,  though 
not  impossible  case,  of  a  woman  who  had  been  the  wife, 
successively,  of  seven  brethren ;  and  they  ask,  with  the 
ripple  of  an  inward  laugh  in  their  question,  "In  the 
resurrection  therefore  whose  wife  of  them  shall  she 
be  ?"  Jesus  answered,  "  The  sons  of  this  world  marry, 
and  are  given  in  marriage :  but  they  that  are  accounted 
worthy  to  attain  to  that  world,  and  the  resurrection 
from  the  dead,  neither  marry,  nor  are  given  in  marriage  : 
for  neither  can  they  die  any  more :  for  they  are  equal 
unto  the  angels  ;  and  are  sons  of  God,  being  sons  of  the 
resurrection."  It  will  be  observed  how  Jesus  plays 
with  the  word  around  which  the  Sadducean  mind 
revolves.  To  them  marriage  was  a  key-word  which 
locked  up  the  gates  of  an  after-life,  and  threw  back  the 
resurrection  among  the  impossibilities  and  absurdities. 
But  Jesus  takes  up  their  key-word,  and  turning  it 
round  and  round  in  His  speech,  He  makes  it  unlock 
and  open  the  inner  soul  of  these  men,  showing  how, 
in  spite  of  their  intellectuality,  the  drift  of  their  thoughts 
was  but  low  and  sensual.  At  the  same  time  Jesus 
shows  that  their  test-word  is  altogether  mundane.  It 
is  made  for  earth  alone ;  for  having  a  nature  of  flesh 
and  blood,  it  cannot  enter  into  the  higher  kingdom  of 
glory.  Marriage  has  its  place  in  the  life  whose  termini 
are  birth  and  death.  It  exists  mainly  for  the  perpetua- 
tion and  increase  of  the  human  race.     It  has  thus  to 


356  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

do  with  the  lower  nature  of  man,  the  physical,  the 
earthly;  but  in  the  world  to  come  birth,  marriage, 
death  will  be  outdated,  obsolete  terms.  Man  then  will 
be  "equal  unto  the  angels,"  the  coarser  nature  which 
fitted  him  for  earth  being  shaken  off  and  left  behind, 
amongst  other  mortalities. 

And  exactly  the  same  truth  is  taught  by  the  three 
posthumous  appearances  recorded  in  this  Gospel.  When 
they  appeared  upon  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration, 
Moses  and  Elias  had  been  residents  of  the  other 
world,  the  one  for  nine,  the  other  for  fourteen  centuries. 
But  while  possessing  the  form,  and  perhaps  the  features 
of  the  old  body  of  earth,  the  glorious  body  they  wear 
now  is  under  conditions  and  laws  altogether  different. 
How  easy  and  aerial  are  its  movements !  Though  it 
possesses  no  wings,  it  has  the  lightness  and  buoyancy 
of  a  bird,  moving  through  space  swiftly  and  silently  as 
the  light  pulses  through  the  ether.  Or  take  the  body 
of  Christ's  resurrection  life.  It  has  not  yet  become  the 
glorified  body  of  the  heavenly  life ;  it  is  in  its  transition 
state,  between  the  two ;  yet  how  changed  it  is  !  Lifted 
above  the  needs  and  laws  of  our  earth-bound  nature, 
the  risen  Christ  no  longer  lives  among  His  own ;  He 
dwells  apart,  where  we  cannot  tell.  When  He  does 
appear  He  comes  in  upon  them  suddenly,  giving  no 
warning  of  His  approach ;  and  then,  after  the  bright 
though  brief  apocalypse,  He  vanishes  as  mysteriously 
as  He  came,  passing  at  the  last  on  the  clouds  to  heaven. 
There  is  thus  some  correspondence  between  the  body 
of  the  old  and  that  of  the  new  life,  though  how  far  the 
resemblance  extends  we  cannot  tell;  we  can  only  fall 
back  upon  the  Apostle's  words,  which  to  our  human 
ear  sound  like  a  paradox,  but  which  give  us  our  only 
solution  of  the  enigma,  "It  is  raised  a  spiritual  body" 


THE  ESCHATOLOGY  OF  THE  GOSPEL,  357 

(1  Cor.  xv.  44).  It  is  no  longer  the  "natural  body/' 
but  a  supernatural  one,  with  a  spiritual  instead  of  a 
material  form,  and  under  spiritual  laws. 

But  taking  the  Apostle's  words  as  our  base-line,  and 
measuring  from  them,  we  may  throw  our  lines  of  sight 
across  the  hereafter,  reading  at  least  as  much  as  this, 
that  whatever  may  be  the  pleasures  or  the  pains  of  the 
after-life,  they  will  be  of  a  spiritual,  and  not  of  a  physical 
kind.  It  is  just  here  that  our  vision  sometimes  gets 
blurred  and  indistinct,  as  all  the  descriptions  of  that 
after-life,  even  in  Scripture,  are  given  in  earthly  figures. 
And  so  we  have  built  up  before  us  a  material  heaven, 
with  jasper  walls,  and  gates  of  pearl,  and  gardens  of 
perennial  fruits,  with  crowns  and  other  palace  delights. 
But  it  is  evident  that  these  are  but  the  earthly  shadows 
of  the  heavenly  realities,  the  darkened  glasses  of  our 
earthly  speech,  which  help  our  dull  vision  to  gaze  upon 
glories  which  the  eye  of  our  mortality  hath  not  seen, 
and  which  its  heart  cannot  conceive,  except  dimly,  as  a 
few  " broken  lights"  pass  through  the  dark  lenses  of 
these  earthly  figures.  What  new  senses  may  be  created 
we  do  not  know,  but  if  the  body  of  the  after-life  is  "a 
spiritual  body,"  then  its  whole  environment  must  be 
changed.  Material  substances  can  no  longer  affect  it, 
either  to  cause  pleasure  or  pain ;  and  though  we  may 
not  yet  tell  in  what  the  delights  of  the  one  state,  or 
the  pains  of  the  other  will  consist,  we  do  know  that 
they  must  be  something  other  than  literal  palms  and 
crowns,  and  other  than  material  fires.  These  figures 
are  but  the  stammerings  of  our  earthly  speech,  as  it 
tries  to  tell  the  unutterable. 

3.  Our  Gospel  teaches  that  character  determines  des- 
tiny. "A  man's  life,"  said  Jesus,  when  rebuking  covet- 
ousness  (xii.   15),   "consisteth  not  in  the  abundance  of 


358  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

the  things  which  he  possesseth."  These  are  not  life's 
noblest  aim,  nor  its  truest  wealth.  They  are  but  the 
accidents  of  life,  the  particles  of  floating  dust,  caught 
up  by  the  stream  ;  they  will  be  left  behind  soon  as 
the  sediment,  if  not  before,  when  they  reach  the  barrier 
of  the  grave.  A  man's  possessions  do  not  constitute 
the  true  life ,  they  do  not  make  the  real  self,  the 
man.  Here  it  is  not  what  a  man  has,  but  what  a 
man  is.  And  a  man  is  just  what  his  heart  makes  him. 
The  outer  life  is  but  the  blossoming  of  the  inner  soul, 
and  what  we  call  character,  in  its  objective  meaning, 
is  but  the  subtle  and  silent  influence,  the  odour,  as  we 
might  call  it,  fragrant  or  otherwise,  which  the  soul 
unconsciously  throws  out.  And  even  in  this  world 
character  is  more  than  circumstance,  for  it  gives  aim 
and  direction  to  the  whole  life.  Men  do  not  always 
reach  their  goal  in  earthly  things,  but  in  the  moral 
world  each  man  goes  to  his  "own  place,"  the  place 
he  himself  has  chosen  and  sought ;  he  is  the  arbiter  of 
his  own  destiny. 

And  what  we  find  to  be  a  law  of  earth  is  the  law  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  as  Jesus  was  constantly  affirm- 
ing. The  future  life  would  simply  be  the  present  life, 
with  eternity  as  its  coefficient.  Destiny  itself  would  be 
but  the  harvest  of  earthly  deeds,  the  hereafter  being 
only  the  after-here.  Jesus  shows  us  how  while  on 
earth  we  may  lay  up  "  treasures  in  the  heavens," 
making  for  ourselves  "  purses  which  wax  not  old,"  and 
thus  becoming  "  rich  toward  God."  He  draws  a  vivid 
picture  of  "  a  certain  rich  man,"  whose  one  estimate  of 
life  was  "  the  abundance  of  the  things  which  he  pos- 
sessed," the  size  and  affluence  of  his  barns,  and  whose 
soul  was  required  of  him  just  when  he  was  congratulat- 
ing it  on   the  years  oi    guaranteed   plenty,  bidding  it, 


THE  ESCHATOLOGY  OF  THE  GOSPEL,  359 

11  Take  thine  ease,  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry  (xii.  1 6-1 2)." 
He  does  not  here  trace  for  us  the  destiny  of  such  a  soul 
— He  does  this  in  another  parable — but  He  pictures  it 
as  suddenly  torn  away,  and  eternally  separated,  from 
aH  it  had  possessed  before,  leaving  it,  perhaps,  to  be 
squandered  thriftlessly,  or  consumed  by  the  fires  of 
Just ;  while,  starved  and  shrivelled,  the  pauper  soul  is 
driven  out  from  its  earthly  stewardship,  to  find,  alas  ! 
no  welcome  in  the  "  eternal  tabernacles."  In  the 
appraisement  of  this  world  such  a  man  would  be 
deemed  wise  and  happy,  but  to  Heaven  he  is  the 
"  foolish  one,"  committing  the  great,  the  eternal  folly. 

The  same  lesson  is  taught  in  the  parables  of  the 
Housebuilders  (vi.  47)  and  of  the  Talents  (xix.  12).  In 
each  there  comes  the  inevitable  test,  the  down-rush  of 
the  flood  and  the  reckoning  of  the  lord,  a  test  which 
leaves  the  obedient  secure  and  happy,  the  faithful  pro- 
moted to  honour  and  rewards,  passed  up  among  the 
kings ;  but  the  disobedient,  if  not  entombed  in  the  ruins 
of  their  false  hopes,  yet  all  shelterless  from  the  pitiless 
storm,  and  the  unfaithful  and  slothful  servant  stripped 
of  even  the  little  he  had,  passed  downwards  into  dis- 
honour and  shame. 

In  another  parable,  that  of  the  Rich  Man  and  Lazarus 
(xvi.  19-31),  we  have  a  light  thrown  upon  our  subject 
which  is  at  once  vivid  and  lurid.  In  a  few  graphic  words 
He  draws  for  us  the  picture  of  strange  contrasts.  The 
one  is  rich,  dwelling  in  a  palatial  residence,  whose  impos- 
ing gateway  looked  down  upon  the  vulgar  crowd  ;  clothed 
in  garments  of  Tyrian  purple  and  of  Egyptian  byssus, 
which  only  great  wealth  could  purchase,  and  faring 
sumptuously  every  day.  So,  with  perpetual  banquets, 
the  rich  man  lived  his  selfish,  sensual  life.  With 
thought  all  centred  upon  himself,  and  that  his  lowest 


360  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

self,  he  has  no  thoughts  or  sympathies  to  spare  for 
the  outlying  world.  They  do  not  even  travel  so  far  as 
to  the  poor  beggar  who  is  cast  daily  a.\  his  gate,  in 
hopes  that  some  of  the  shaken-out  crumbs  of  the  banquet 
may  fall  within  his  reach.  Such  is  the  contrast — the 
extreme  of  wealth,  and  the  extreme  of  poverty  ;  the  one 
with  troops  of  friends,  the  other  friendless — for  the 
verb  shows  that  the  hands  which  laid  him  down  by  the 
rich  man's  gate  were  not  the  gentle  hands  of  affection, 
but  the  rough  hands  of  duty  or  of  a  cold  charity ;  the 
one  clothed  in  splendid  attire,  the  other  not  possessing 
enough  even  to  cover  his  sores;  the  one  gorged  to 
repletion,  the  other  shrunken  and  starved  ;  the  one  the 
anonymous  Epicurean,  the  other  possessing  a  name 
indeed,  but  nought  beside,  but  a  name  that  had  a 
Divinity  hidden  within  it,*  and  which  was  an  index  to 
the  soul  that  bore  it.  Such  were  the  two  characters 
Jesus  portrayed;  and  then,  lifting  up  the  veil  of  shadows, 
He  shows  how  the  marked  contrast  reappears  in  the 
after-life,  but  with  a  strange  inverting.  Now  the  poor 
man  is  blessed,  the  rich  in  distress  ;  the  one  is  enfolded 
in  Abraham's  bosom,  the  other  enveloped  in  flames; 
the  one  has  all  the  delights  of  Paradise,  the  other  begs 
for  just  a  drop  of  water  with  which  to  cool  the  parched 
tongue. 

It  may  be  said  that  this  is  simply  parable,  set  forth 
in  language  which  must  not  be  taken  literally.  So  it 
is;  but  the  parables  of  Jesus  were  not  mere  word- 
pictures  ;  they  held  in  solution  essential  truth.  And 
when  we  have  eliminated  all  this  figurative  colouring 
there  is  still  left  this  residuary,  elementary  truth,  that 
character  determines   destiny  :    that  we  cast  into  our 

•  The  name  "Lazarus  "  is  derived  from  El-ezer,  or  "God  helps." 


THE  ESCHATOLOGY  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  361 

future  the  shadow  of  our  present  selves ;  that  the  good 
will  be  blessed,  and  the  evil  unblessed,  which  means 
accursed ;  and  that  heaven  and  hell  are  tremendous 
realities,  whose  pleasures  and  whose  pains  lie  alike 
deep  beyond  the  sounding  of  our  weak  speech.  When 
the  rich  man  forgot  his  duties  to  humanity ;  when  he 
banished  God  from  his  mansion,  and  proscribed  mercy 
from  his  thoughts ;  when  he  left  Heaven's  foundling  to 
the  dogs,  he  was  writing  out  his  book  of  doom,  passing 
sentence  upon  himself.  The  tree  lies  as  it  falls,  and 
it  falls  as  it  leans;  and  where  is  there  place  for  the 
unforgiven,  the  unregenerate,  for  the  sensual  and  the 
selfish,  the  unjust  and  the  unclean,  but  somewhere  in 
the  outer  darkness  they  themselves  have  helped  to 
make  ?  To  the  sensual  and  the  vile  heaven  itself 
would  be  a  hell,  its  very  joys  curdling  into  pain,  its 
streets,  thronged  with  the  multitudes  of  the  redeemed, 
offering  to  the  guilty  and  unrenewed  soul  but  a  solitude 
of  silence  and  anguish  ;  and  even  were  there  no  final 
judgment,  no  solemn  pronouncement  of  destiny,  the 
evil  could  never  blend  with  the  good,  the  pure  with 
the  vile ;  they  would  gravitate,  even  as  they  do  now, 
in  opposite  directions,  each  seeking  its  "own  place." 
Wherever  and  whatever  our  final  heaven  may  be,  no 
one  is  an  outcast  but  who  casts  himself  out,  a  self- 
immolation,  a  suicide. 

But  is  it  destiny  ?  it  may  be  asked.  May  there  not 
be  an  after-probation,  so  that  character  itself  may  be 
transformed  ?  may  not  the  "  great  gulf "  itself  disap- 
pear, or  at  last  be  bridged  over,  so  that  the  repentant 
may  pass  out  of  its  penal  but  purifying  fires  ?  Such, 
indeed,  is  the  belief,  or  rather  the  hope,  of  some;  but 
u  the  larger  hope  "  as  they  are  pleased  to  call  it,  as  far 
as  this  Gospel  is  concerned,  is  a  beautiful  but  illusive 


36a  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

dream.  He  who  was  Himself  the  "  Resurrection  and 
the  Life/'  and  who  holds  in  His  own  hands  the  keys 
of  death  and  of  Hades,  gives  no  hint  of  such  a  post- 
humous palingenesis.  He  speaks  again  and  again  of 
a  day  of  test  and  scrutiny,  when  actions  will  be  weighed 
and  characters  assayed,  and  when  men  will  be  judged 
according  to  their  works.  Now  it  is  at  the  "  coming  " 
of  the  Son  of  man,  in  the  glory  of  His  Father,  and 
with  a  retinue  of  "  holy  angels  ; "  now  it  is  the  return- 
ing of  the  lord,  and  the  reckoning  with  his  servants ; 
while  again  it  is  at  the  end  of  the  world,  as  the  angel- 
reapers  separate  the  wheat  from  the  tares ;  or  as  He 
Himself,  the  great  Judge,  with  His  "  Come  ye/'  passes 
on  the  faithful  to  the  heavenly  kingdom,  and  at  the 
same  time,  with  His  "Depart  ye,"  drives  from  His 
presence  the  unfaithful  and  unforgiven  into  the  outer 
darkness.  Nor  does  Jesus  say  one  word  to  suggest 
that  the  judgment  is  not  final.  The  blasphemy  against 
the  Holy  Ghost,  whatever  that  may  mean,  shall  not 
be  forgiven  (xii.  10),  or,  as  St.  Matthew  expresses  it, 
"  neither  in  this  world,  nor  in  that  which  is  to  come." 
The  unfaithful  servant  is  "  cut  asunder  "  (xii.  46) ;  the 
enemies  who  would  not  have  their  Lord  to  reign  over 
them  are  slain  (xix.  27)  ;  and  when  once  the  door  is 
shut  it  is  all  in  vain  that  those  outside  cry,  "  Lord, 
open  to  us ! "  They  had  an  open  door,  but  they 
slighted  and  scorned  it,  and  now  they  must  abide  by 
their  choice,  outside  the  door,  outside  the  kingdom, 
with  the  "  workers  of  iniquity,"  where  u  there  is  weep- 
ing and  gnashing  of  teeth  "  (xiii.  28). 

Or  if  we  turn  again  to  the  parable  of  the  Rich  Man, 
where  is  there  room  for  "  the  larger  hope "  ?  where 
is  the  suggestion  that  these  "  pains  of  hell "  may  be 
lessened,  and  ultimately  escaped  altogether  ?    We  listen 


THE  ESCHATOLOGY  OF  THE  GOSPEL,  363 

in  vain  for  one  syllable  of  hope.  In  vain  he  makes 
his  appeal  to  "  father  Abraham ; "  in  vain  he  entreats 
the  good  offices  of  Lazarus;  in  vain  he  asks  for  a 
momentary  alleviation  of  his  pain,  in  the  boon  of  one 
drop  of  water :  between  him  and  help,  yea,  between 
him  and  hope,  is  a  "  great  gulf  fixed,  .  .  .  that  none 
may  cross  "  (xvi.  26). 

"  That  none  may  cross."  Such  are  the  words  of 
Jesus,  though  here  put  in  the  mouth  of  Abraham ;  and 
if  finality  is  not  here,  where  can  we  find  it  ?  What 
may  be  the  judgment  passed  upon  those  who,  though 
erring,  are  ignorant,  we  cannot  tell,  though  Jesus 
plainly  indicates  that  the  number  of  the  stripes  will 
vary,  as  they  knew,  or  they  did  not  know,  the  Lord's 
will ;  but  for  those  who  had  the  light,  and  turned  from 
it,  who  saw  the  right,  but  did  it  not,  who  heard  the 
Gospel  of  love,  with  its  great  salvation,  and  only  rejected 
it — for  these  there  is  only  an  "outer  darkness"  of 
eternal  hopelessness.  And  what  is  the  outer  darkness 
itself  but  the  darkness  of  their  own  inner  blindness, 
a  blindness  which  was  wilful  and  persistent  ? 

Our  Gospel  thus  teaches  that  death  does  not  alter 
character,  that  character  makes  destiny,  and  that 
destiny  once  determined  is  unalterable  and  eternal. 
Or,  to  put  it  in  the  words  of  the  angel  to  the  seer,  "  He 
that  is  unrighteous,  let  him  do  unrighteousness  still : 
and  he  that  is  filthy,  let  him  be  made  filthy  still :  and 
he  that  is  righteous,  let  him  do  righteousness  still : 
and  he  that  is  holy,  let  him  be  made  holy  still "  (Rev 
xxii.  11). 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
THE  WATCH  IN  GETHSEMANE. 

HITHERTO  the  life  of  Jesus  has  been  com- 
paratively free  from  sorrow  and  from  pain. 
With  the  exception  of  the  narrow  strip  of  wilderness 
which  fell  between  the  Baptism  and  His  inaugural 
miracle,  the  Divine  Life  has  lain  for  the  most  part  in 
the  sunshine,  above  the  fret  and  fever  of  anxious 
thought  and  care.  True,  He  had  enemies,  whose  hatred 
was  persistent  and  virulent ;  the  shafts  of  calumny  fell 
around  Him  in  one  steady  rain ;  His  motives  were 
constantly  misconstrued,  His  words  misunderstood ;  but 
with  all  this  His  life  was  peace.  How  could  He 
have  spoken  of  "  rest "  of  soul,  and  have  promised  it 
to  the  weary  and  heavy-laden,  if  He  Himself  were  a 
stranger  to  its  experience?  How  could  He  have  awoke 
such  songs  and  shouts  of  gladness,  or  have  strewn  the 
lives  of  men  with  such  unusual  brightness,  without 
having  that  brightness  and  music  coming  back  in 
reflections  and  echoes  within  His  own  heart — that 
heart  which  was  the  fontal  source  of  their  new-found 
joys  ?  And  if  many  doubted,  or  even  hated  Him, 
there  were  many  who  admired  and  feared,  and  not  a 
few  who  loved  and  adored  Him,  and  who  were  glad  to 
place  at  His  disposal  their  entire  substance,  nay,  their 
entire  selves.  But  if  His  anointing  thus  far  has  been  the 
anointing  of  gladness,  there  is  a  baptism  of  sorrow  and 


THE   WATCH  IN  GETHSEMANE.  365 

anguish  prepared  for  Him,  and  to  that  ordeal  He  now 
proceeds,  first  girding  up  His  soul  with  the  music  of 
a  thanksgiving  psalm.  Let  us,  too,  arise  and  follow 
Him  ;  but  taking  off  our  shoes,  let  us  step  softly  and 
reverently  into  the  mystery  of  the  Divine  sorrow  ;  for 
though  we  must  ever  stand  back  from  that  mystery 
more  than  a  "stone's  cast,"  perhaps,  if  we  keep  mind 
and  heart  awake  and  alert,  we  may  read  something  of 
its  deep  meaning. 

The  whole  scene  of  Gethsemane  is  unique.  Like 
the  Mount  of  Transfiguration,  the  Garden  of  the  Agony 
stands  "apart"  from  all  other  paths,  in  a  profound 
isolation.  And  in  more  senses  than  this  these  two 
august  scenes  are  related  and  coincident.  Indeed,  we 
cannot  fully  understand  the  mystery  of  the  Garden 
but  as  we  allow  the  mystery  of  the  Mount  to  explain 
it,  in  part  at  least,  so  threading  the  light  of  the  one 
into  the  darkness  of  the  other.  On  the  Mount  of 
Transfiguration  the  Divine  Life,  as  we  have  seen, 
reached  its  culminating  point,  its  perihelion  as  we 
may  call  it,  where  it  touched  the  very  heavens  for  one 
brief  night,  passing  through  its  out-streaming  glories 
and  crossing  the  paths  of  celestials.  In  Gethsemane 
we  have  the  antipodal  fact ;  we  see  the  Divine  Life  in 
its  far  aphelion,  where  it  touches  hell  itself,  moving 
round  in  an  awful  gloom,  and  crossing  the  paths  of  the 
"  powers  of  darkness."  And  so  our  best  outlook  into 
Gethsemane  is  not  from  the  Mount  of  Olives — though 
the  two  names  are  related,  as  the  two  places  are 
adjacent,  Gethsemane  lying  at  the  foot  of  Olivet — but 
from  that  more  distant  Mount  of  Transfiguration. 

Leaving  the  "guest-chamber,"  where  a  Passover  of 
a  new  order  has  been  instituted,  and  the  cup,  with  its 
fruit  of  the  vine,  has  received  a  higher  consecration, 


366  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

Jesus  leads  the  broken  band  down  the  stairs,  which 
still  vibrate  with  the  heavy  tread  of  the  traitor,  and 
in  the  still,  full  moonlight  they  pass  out  of  the  city, 
the  gates  being  open  because  of  the  Passover.  De- 
scending the  steep  ravine,  and  crossing  the  brook 
Kedron,  they  enter  the  enclosure  of  Gethsemane.  Both 
St.  Luke  and  St.  John  tell  us  that  He  was  accustomed 
to  resort  thither — for,  strangely  enough,  we  do  not  read 
of  Jesus  spending  so  much  as  one  night  within  the 
city  walls — and  so  probably  the  garden  belonged  to 
one  of  His  adherents,  possibly  to  St.  Mark.  Bidding 
the  eight  remain  near  the  entrance,  and  exhorting 
them  to  pray  that  they  enter  not  into,  or,  as  it  means 
here,  that  they  "yield  not  to,"  the  temptation  which 
is  shortly  to  come  upon  them,  Jesus  takes  Peter,  James, 
and  John  farther  into  the  garden.  They  were  witnesses 
of  His  Transfiguration,  when  His  face  shone  like  the 
sun,  and  the  spirits  of  the  perfected  came  to  do  Him 
homage ;  they  must  now  see  a  transfiguration  of 
sorrow,  as  that  face  is  furrowed  by  the  sharp  lines  of 
pain,  and  half-masked  by  a  veil  of  blood.  From  the 
narratives  of  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark  it  would 
appear  as  if  Jesus  now  experienced  a  sudden  change 
of  feeling.  In  the  guest-chamber  He  was  calmly  con- 
fident; and  though  we  may  detect  in  His  words  and 
symbolic  acts  a  certain  undertone  of  sadness,  the 
salutation  of  one  "  about  to  die,"  yet  there  was  no 
tremor,  no  fear.  He  spoke  of  His  own  death,  which 
now  was  near  at  hand,  as  calmly  as  if  the  Mount  of 
Sacrifice  were  but  another  mountain  of  spices  ;  while 
to  His  disciples  He  spoke  words  of  cheer  and  hope, 
putting  around  their  hearts  a  soothing,  healing  balm, 
even  before  the  dreadful  wound  is  made.  But  now  all 
this  is  changed :  u  He  began  to  be  greatly  amazed  and 


THE   WATCH  IN  GETHSEMANE.  3^7 


sore  troubled  "  (St.  Mark  xiv.  33).  The  word  we  here 
render  "  amazed,"  as  St.  Mark  uses  it,  has  sometimes 
the  element  of  fear  within  it,  as  when  the  women  were 
"amazed,"  or  "affrighted,"  by  the  vision  of  the  angels 
(xvi.  5);  and  such,  we  are  inclined  to  think,  is  its 
meaning  here.  It  was  not  so  much  wonder  as  it  was 
trepidation,  and  a  certain  dread,  which  now  fell  of  a 
sudden  upon  the  Master.  Over  that  pure  soul,  which 
ever  lay  calm  and  serene  as  the  bright  heaven  which 
stooped  to  embrace  it,  has  broken  a  storm  of  conflicting 
winds,  and  dense,  murky  clouds,  and  all  is  disquiet  and 
distress,  where  before  was  nothing  but  peace.  "  My 
soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto  death ; "  such  is 
the  strange  confession  of  tremulous  lips,  as  for  once 
He  opens  the  infinite  depths  of  His  heart,  and  shows 
the  mortal  grief  which  has  suddenly  fallen  there.  It 
is  the  first  contact  of  the  eclipse,  as  between  Himself 
and  the  Father's  smile  another  world  is  passing,  the 
world  of  the  "outer  darkness,"  even  hell,  throwing 
down  upon  His  soul  a  chilling,  awful  shadow. 

Jesus  understands  its  meaning.  It  is  the  signal  for 
the  final  battle,  the  shadow  of  "the  prince  of  this 
world,"  who,  rallying  all  his  forces,  cometh  to  find 
"nothing  in  Me."  Jesus  accepts  the  challenge,  and 
that  He  may  meet  the  enemy  single-handed,  with  no 
earthly  supports,  He  bids  the  three,  "  Abide  ye  here, 
and  watch  with  Me."  "  With  Me,"  and  not "  for  Me  ; " 
for  what  could  avail  to  Him  the  vigilance  of  human 
eyes  amid  this  felt  darkness  of  the  soul  ?  It  was  not 
for  Himself  He  bade  them  "  watch,"  but  for  themselves, 
that  waking  and  praying  they  might  gain  a  strength 
which  would  be  proof  against  temptation,  the  test  which 
would  be  keenly  severe,  and  which  now  was  close  at 
hand. 


368  THE  GOSPEL  Oh  ST.  LUKE. 

"And  He  was  parted  from  them  about  a  stone's 
cast."  The  verb  implies  a  measure  of  constraint,  as 
if,  in  the  conflict  of  emotion,  the  longing  for  some 
human  presence  and  human  sympathy  held  Him  back. 
And  why  not  ?  Is  not  the  very  presence  of  a  friend 
a  solace  in  grief,  even  if  no  words  are  spoken?  and 
does  not  the  u  aloneness  "  of  a  sorrow  make  the  sorrow 
tenfold  more  bitter  ?  Not  like  the  "  stricken  deer  that 
left  the  herd,"  the  human  heart,  when  wounded  or  sore 
pressed,  yearns  for  sympathy,  finding  in  the  silent 
look  or  in  the  touch  of  a  hand  a  grateful  anodyne. 
But  this  wine-press  He  must  tread  alone,  and  of  the 
people  there  must  be  none  with  Him ;  and  so  the 
three  who  are  most  favoured  and  most  beloved  are 
left  back  at  a  stone's  cast  from  the  physical  suffering 
of  Christ,  while  from  His  heart-agony  they  must  stand 
back  at  an  infinite  distance. 

It  was  while  Jesus  was  praying  upon  the  holy 
mount  that  the  heavens  were  opened  unto  Him;  and 
now,  as  another  cloud  envelopes  Him,  not  of  glory,  but 
of  a  thick  darkness,  it  finds  Him  in  the  same  attitude 
of  prayer.  He  at  whose  feet  sinful  man  had  knelt,  all 
un rebuked,  Himself  now  kneels,  as  He  sends  to  heaven 
the  earnest  and  almost  bitter  cry,  "  O  My  Father,  if 
it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  Me  ! "  The  three 
Evangelists  differ  in  their  wording  of  the  Saviour's 
petition,  showing  that  the  spirit  is  more  than  the 
letter  of  prayer ;  that  Heaven  thinks  more  of  the  inner 
thought  than  of  the  outward  drapery  of  words;  but 
the  thought  of  the  three  is  identical,  while  all  make 
prominent  the  central  figure  of  the  "cup." 

The  cups  of  Scripture  are  of  divers  patterns  and  of 
varied  meanings.  There  was  the  cup  of  blessing,  like 
that  of  the  Psalmist  (Psalm  xxiii.  5),  filled  to  the  brim 


THE  WATCH  IN  GETHSEMANE.  369 

and  running  over  with  mercy.  There  was  "the  cup  of 
salvation,  "that  sacrament  of  the  Old  Testament  which 
kept  in  memory  one  deliverance,  that  of  Israel,  while  it 
prophesied  of  another,  the  "  great  salvation  "  which  was 
to  come.  What,  then,  was  the  cup  Jesus  so  feared  to 
drink,  and  which  He  asked,  so  earnestly  and  repeatedly, 
that  it  might  pass  from  Him  ?  Was  it  the  fear  of 
death  ?  Certainly  not ;  for  how  could  He  be  afraid 
of  death,  who  had  so  triumphed  over  it,  and  who  had 
proclaimed  Himself  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life  ? 
How  could  He  fear  death,  when  He  knew  so  well  u  the 
seraph  face  that  smiled  beneath  the  frowning  mask," 
and  knew  that  it  would  end  for  ever  all  His  sufferings 
and  His  pain  ?  Death  to  Him  was  a  familiar  thought. 
He  spoke  of  it  freely,  not  either  with  the  hard  in- 
difference of  the  Stoic,  or  with  the  palsied  speech  of 
one  whose  lips  shake  with  an  inward  fear,  but  in  calm, 
sweet  accents,  as  any  child  of  earth  might  speak  of 
going  home.  Was  this  "  cup,"  then,  the  death  itself? 
and  when  He  asked  that  it  might  pass  away,  was  He 
suggesting  that  possibly  some  mode  of  atonement  might 
be  found  other  than  the  cross  ?  We  think  not.  Jesus 
knew  full  well  that  His  earthly  life  would  have,  and 
could  have,  but  one  issue.  Death  would  be  its  goal, 
as  it  was  its  object.  Whether,  as  Holman  Hunt 
represents,  the  cross  threw  its  shadow  back  as  far  as 
the  shop  at  Nazareth,  we  do  not  know,  for  the  record 
is  silent.  But  we  do  know  that  the  shadow  of  death 
lay  across  the  whole  of  His  public  life,  for  we  find  it 
appearing  in  His  words.  The  cross  was  a  dark  and 
vivid  certainty  that  He  wished  neither  to  forget  nor 
to  evade,  for  must  not  the  Son  of  man  be  "  lifted  up," 
that  He  may  draw  all  men  to  Himself?  Must  not  the 
corn  of  wheat  be  hidden   in    its  grave  before  it   can 

24 


370  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

become  fruitful,  throwing  itself  forward  down  the  years 
in  hundredfold  multiplications  ?  Yes ;  death  to  Jesus 
is  the  inevitable,  and  long  before  the  Roman  soldiers 
have  pieced  together  the  transverse  beams  Jesus  had 
made  His  cross,  fashioning  it  in  His  thought,  and 
hiding  it  in  His  words.  Nay,  He  has  this  very  night 
instituted  a  new  sacrament,  in  which,  for  all  genera- 
tions, the  broken  bread  shall  be  the  emblem  of  His 
bruised  and  broken  body,  and  the  wine,  of  His  blood, 
the  blood  of  the  New  Testament,  which  is  shed  for 
man.  And  does  Jesus  now  seek,  by  reiterated  prayers, 
to  shift  that  cross  from  the  Divine  purpose,  substi- 
tuting in  its  place  something  less  painful,  less  cruel  ? 
does  He  seek  now  to  annul  His  own  predictions,  and 
to  make  His  own  sacrament  void  and  meaningless? 
This  cannot  be;  and  so,  whatever  the  "cup"  may 
mean,  we  cannot  take  it  as  a  synonym  for  His 
death. 

What,  then,  is  its  meaning  ?     The  Psalmist  had  long 
before  sung — 

"For  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord  there  is  a  cup,  and  the  wine  foameth; 
It  is  full  of  mixture,  and  He  poureth  out  of  the  same : 
Surely  the  dregs  thereof,  all  the  wicked  of  the  earth  shall  wring 
them  out,  and  drink  them  "  (Psalm  lxxv.  8); 

while  St.  John,  speaking  of  the  last  woes  (Rev.  xiv.  io), 
tells  how  they  who  have  the  mark  of  the  beast  upon 
their  foreheads  "  shall  drink  of  the  wine  of  the  wrath 
of  God,  which  is  prepared  unmixed  in  the  cup  of  His 
anger."  Here,  then,  is  the  "cup"  which  now  is  set 
before  the  Son  of  man,  the  very  touch  of  which  fills 
His  soul  with  unutterable  dread.  It  is  the  cup  of  God's 
anger,  filled  to  the  brim  with  its  strange  red  wine,  the 
wine  of  His  wrath.     Jesus  comes  to  earth  as  the  Re- 


THE   WATCH  IN  GET11SEMANE.  371 

preservative  Man,  the  Second  Adam,  in  whom  all  shall 
be  made  alive.  He  voluntarily  assumes  the  place  of 
the  transgressor,  as  St.  Paul  writes  (2  Cor.  v.  21),  "  Him 
who  knew  no  sin  He  made  to  be  sin  on  our  behalf;  that 
we  might  become  the  righteousness  of  God  in  Him," 
a  passage  which  corresponds  exactly  with  the  prophetic 
idea  of  substitution,  as  given  by  Isaiah  (liii.  5),  "He 
was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  He  was  bruised  for 
our  iniquities  :  the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon 
Him ;  and  with  His  stripes  we  are  healed."  And  so 
"  the  iniquity  of  us  all  "  was  laid  on  Him,  the  Holy  One. 
In  His  own  Person  He  must  feel,  in  its  concentrated 
forms,  the  smart  and  consequence  of  sin  ;  and  as  His 
physical  sufferings  are  the  extremest  pain  even  sin  can 
produce,  so  Jesus  must  suffer,  too,  all  the  mental  anguish, 
the  agony  of  a  soul  bereft  of  God.  And  as  Jesus,  on 
the  Transfiguration  Mount,  passed  up  to  the  very  gate 
of  heaven,  so  lighting  up  with  splendour  and  glory  the 
lost  path  of  unfallen  man,  so  now,  in  the  Garden,  Jesus 
tracks  the  path  of  fallen  man,  right  on  to  its  fearful 
consummation,  which  is  the  "  outer  darkness "  of  hell 
itself.  This  vivid  consciousness  has  been  graciously 
withheld  from  Him  hitherto  ;  for  the  terrible  pressure 
would  simply  have  unfitted  Him  for  His  ministry  of 
blessing ;  for  how  could  He  have  been  the  "  kindly 
Light,"  leading  humanity  homeward,  heavenward,  if 
that  Light  Himself  were  hidden  in  "encircling  gloom," 
and  lost  in  a  felt  darkness  ?  But  ere  His  mission  is 
complete  this  is  an  experience  that  He  must  know. 
Identifying  Himself  with  sin,  He  must  feel  its  very 
farthest  consequence,  the  awful  solitude,  and  the  un- 
utterable anguish,  of  a  soul  now  bereft  of  hope  and 
forsaken  of  God.  In  the  heathen  fable  Orpheus  goes 
down,  lyre  in  hand,  to  the  Plutonic  realm,   to   bring 


372  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

back  again  to  life  and  love  the  lost  Eurydice ;  but 
Jesus,  in  His  vicarious  sufferings,  goes  down  to  hell 
itself,  that  He  may  win  back  from  their  sins,  and  bear 
in  triumph  to  the  upper  heavens,  a  lost  humanity. 

Rising  from  the  ground,  and  going  back  to  His  three 
disciples,  He  finds  them  asleep.  The  Synoptists  all 
seek  to  explain,  and  to  apologize  for,  their  unnatural 
slumber,  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark  telling  us  that 
their  "eyes  were  heavy,"  while  St.  Luke  states  that 
their  sleep  was  the  result  of  their  grief;  for,  happily, 
in  the  wonderful  compensations  of  nature,  intense  grief 
does  tend  to  induce  somnolence.  But  while  the  Evan- 
gelists refer  their  slumber  to  natural  causes,  might  there 
not  be  something  more  in  it,  some  supernatural  ele- 
ment ?  Sleep  can  be  caused  by  natural  means,  and  yet 
be  an  unnatural  sleep,  as  when  narcotics  benumb  the 
senses,  or  some  mesmeric  spell  muffles  the  speech,  and 
makes  the  soul  for  a  time  unconscious.  And  might  it 
not  have  been  some  invisible  touch  which  made  their 
eyes  so  heavy  ?  for  it  is  an  exact  repetition  of  their 
attitude  when  on  the  holy  mount,  and  in  that  sleep 
sorrow  certainly  had  no  part.  When  St.  John  saw 
the  vision  upon  Patmos,  he  "fell  at  His  feet  as  one 
dead;"  and  when  Saul  beheld  the  light,  near  Damascus, 
he  fell  to  the  ground.  And  how  often  we  find  the  celes- 
tial vision  connected  with  a  trance-like  state  !  and  why 
may  not  the  "  trance  "  be  an  effect  of  the  vision,  just  as 
well  as  its  cause,  or  rather  its  circumstance  ?  At  any 
rate,  the  fact  is  plain,  that  supernatural  visions  tend  to 
lock  up  the  natural  senses,  the  veil  which  is  uplifted 
before  the  unseen  world  being  wrapped  around  the  eyes 
and  tne  soul  of  the  seer.  And  this,  we  are  inclined  to 
think,  was  a  possible,  partial  cause  for  the  slumber  upon 
the  mount  and  in    the  garden,  a  sleep  which,  under 


THE  WATCH  IN  GETHSEMANE.  373 

the  circumstances,  was  strangely  unnatural  and  almost 
unpardonable. 

Addressing  Himself  directly  to  Peter,  who  had 
promised  to  follow  His  Lord  unto  death,  but  whose 
heart  now  strangely  lagged  behind,  and  calling  him  by 
his  earlier  name — for  Jesus  only  once  made  use  of  the 
name  He  Himself  had  chosen ;  the  "  Rock "  was  at 
present  in  a  state  of  flux,  and  had  not  yet  settled  down 
to  its  petrine  character — He  said,  "  What,  Simon,  could 
ye  not  watch  with  Me  one  hour  ?  Watch  and  pray,  that 
ye  enter  not  into  temptation."  Then,  for  a  moment 
forgetting  His  own  sorrow,  and  putting  Himself  in 
their  place,  He  makes  the  apology  for  them  which 
their  lips  are  afraid  to  utter  :  u  The  spirit  indeed  is 
willing,  but  the  flesh  is  weak ; "  so  compassionate  is  He 
over  human  weakness  and  infirmity,  even  while  He  is 
severity  itself  towards  falsity  and  sin. 

St.  Luke  records  the  narrative  only  in  a  condensed 
form,  giving  us  the  salient  points,  but  not  entering  so 
fully  into  detail.  It  is  from  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark  that 
we  learn  how  Jesus  went  back  a  second  time,  and  falling 
prostrate  on  the  ground,  prayed  still  in  the  self-same 
words,  and  how  He  returned  to  His  disciples  to  find 
them  again  asleep ;  even  the  reproof  of  the  Master  has 
not  been  able  to  counterbalance  the  pressure  of  the 
supernatural  heaviness.  No  word  is  spoken  this  time — 
at  any  rate  the  Evangelists  have  not  repeated  them  for 
us — but  how  eloquent  would  be  that  look  of  disappoint- 
ment and  of  grief!  and  how  that  rebuke  would  fall 
burning  hot  upon  their  heart,  focussed  in  the  lenses  of 
His  sad  and  tearful  eyes  !  But  the  three  are  dazed, 
bewildered,  and  for  once  the  ready  tongue  of  Peter  is 
speechless ;  "  they  wist  not  what  to  answer  Him " 
(Mark  xiv.  40). 


374  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

Not  yet,  however,  is  the  conflict  ended.  Three  times 
did  the  tempter  come  to  Him  in  the  wilderness,  and 
three  times  is  the  fierce  battle  to  be  waged  in  the 
garden,  the  last  the  sorest.  It  would  almost  seem  as 
if  the  three  assaults  were  descending  steps  of  sorrow, 
each  marking  some  lower  deep  in  the  dark  mystery  ; 
for  now  the  death-sorrow  becomes  an  "  agony "  of 
spirit,  a  pressure  from  within  so  fearful  as  to  arrest 
the  flow  of  blood,  forcing  it  through  the  opened  pores 
in  an  awful  sweat,  until  great  drops,  or  "  clots,"  of 
blood  gathered  upon  His  face,  and  then  fell  to  the 
ground.  Could  there  be  possibly,  even  for  the  lost, 
an  anguish  more  intense  ?  and  was  not  Jesus  then, 
as  man's  Surety,  wringing  out  and  drinking  the  very 
last  dregs  of  that  cup  of  His  anger  which  "  the  wicked 
of  the  earth,"  if  unredeemed,  had  been  doomed  to 
drink  ?  Verily  He  was,  and  the  bloody  sweat  was  a 
part,  an  earnest,  of  our  atonement,  sprinkling  with  its 
redemptive  virtues  the  very  ground  which  was  "  cursed" 
for  man's  sake  (Gen.  iii.  17).  It  was  the  pledge  and 
the  foregathered  fruit  of  a  death  already  virtually  accom- 
plished, in  the  absolute  surrender  of  the  Divine  Son 
as  man's  Sacrifice. 

And  so  the  thrice-uttered  prayer  of  Jesus,  even 
though  He  prayed  the  "  more  earnestly,"  was  not 
granted.  It  was  heard,  and  it  was  answered,  but  not 
in  the  specific  way  of  the  request.  Like  Paul's  prayer 
for  the  removal  of  the  thorn,  and  which,  though  not 
granted,  was  yet  answered  in  the  promise  of  the 
" sufficient"  grace,  so  now  the  thrice-uttered  prayer 
of  Jesus  does  not  remove  the  cup.  It  is  there,  and  it 
is  there  for  Him  to  drink,  as  He  tastes  for  man  both  of 
the  earthly  death  and  of  the  bitterness  of  the  after,  the 
second  death.     But  the  answer  came  in  the  strength- 


THE   WATCH  IN  GETHSEMANE.  375 

ening  of  His  soul,  and  in  the  heavenly  greetings  the 
angel  brought  down  to  Him  when  the  conflict  was  over. 
But  in  this  reiterated  prayer  for  the  removal  of  the  cup 
there  was  no  conflict  between  Himself  and  the  Father. 
The  request  itself  was  enveloped  in  submission,  the 
contingent  "if"  which  preceded  it,  and  the  u  not  My 
will,  but  Thine,"  which  followed,  completely  enclosing 
it.  The  will  of  Jesus  was  ever  adjusted  to  the  will  of 
the  Father,  working  within  it  in  an  absolute  precision, 
with  no  momentary  breaks.  But  here  the  "  if"  implies 
uncertainty,  doubt.  Even  Jesus  is  not  quite  sure  as 
to  what,  in  the  special  case,  the  Father's  will  may 
involve,  and  so,  while  He  asks  for  the  removal  of  the 
cup,  this  is  the  smaller  request,  inlaid  within  the 
larger,  deeper  prayer,  that  "  not  My  will,  but  Thine, 
be  done."  Jesus  did  not  seek  to  bend  the  Father's  will, 
and  make  it  conform  to  His  desires,  but  He  sought, 
whatever  might  be  the  cost,  to  configure  His  desires 
to  that  all-wise  and  all-loving  Will. 

So  in  our  smaller  lives  there  may  be  hours  of  distress 
and  uncertainty.  We  may  see,  mingled  for  us,  cups  of 
sorrow,  loss,  or  pain,  which  we  fear  to  drink,  and  the 
shrinking  flesh  may  seek  to  be  exempted  from  the 
ordeal ;  but  let  us  not  too  hastily  ask  that  they  may 
be  put  away,  for  fear  we  may  dismiss  some  cup  of 
blessing  from  our  life.  Let  us  seek  rather  for  a  perfect 
submission  to  the  will  of  God,  conforming  all  our 
desires  and  all  our  prayers  to  that  will.  So  in  that 
"  perfect  acquiescence  "  there  will  be  for  us  a  "  perfect 
rest."  Gethsemane  itself  will  become  bright  and  all 
musical  with  songs,  and  where  the  powers  of  darkness 
mocked  us  Heaven's  angels  will  come,  with  their  sweet 
ministry.  Nay,  the  cup  of  sorrow  and  of  pain,  at  which 
we   trembled   before,   if  we  see  how   God's  will  has 


376  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

wrought  and  filled  it,  and  we  embrace  that  will,  the 
cup  of  sorrow  will  be  a  transfigured  cup,  a  golden 
chalice  of  the  King,  all  filled  to  the  brim,  and  running 
over,  with  the  new  wine  of  the  kingdom. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  PASSION. 
Luke  xxii.  47 — xxiiL 

WHILE  Jesus  kept  His  sad  watch  in  Gethsemane, 
treading  the  winepress  alone,  His  enemies  kept 
theirs  in  the  city.  The  step  of  Judas,  as  he  passed 
out  into  the  night,  went  verberating  within  the  house 
of  the  high  priest,  and  onwards  into  the  palace  of  Pilate 
himself,  awaking  a  thousand  echoes,  as  swift  mes- 
sengers flew  hither  and  thither,  bearing  the  hurried 
summons,  calling  the  rulers  and  elders  from  their 
repose,  and  marshalling  the  Roman  cohort.  Hitherto 
the  powers  of  darkness  have  been  restrained,  and 
though  they  have,  again  and  again,  attempted  the  life 
of  Jesus,  as  if  some  occult  spell  were  upon  them,  they 
could  not  accomplish  their  purpose.  Far  back  in  the 
Infancy  Herod  had  sought  to  kill  Him ;  but  though  his 
cold  steel  reaped  a  bloody  swath  in  Ramah,  it  could 
not  touch  the  Divine  Child.  The  men  of  Nazareth  had 
sought  to  hurl  Him  down  the  sheer  precipice,  but  He 
escaped ;  Jesus  had  not  come  into  the  world  to  die  at 
Nazareth,  thrown  off,  as  by  an  accident,  from  a  Galilean 
cliff.  He  had  come  to  "  accomplish  His  decease,"  as 
the  celestials  put  it  upon  the  mount,  "at  Jerusalem,' 
and  that  too,  as  He  indicated  plainly  and  frequently  in 


378  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

His  speech,  upon  a  cross.  Now,  however,  the  hour  of 
darkness  has  struck,  and  the  fulness  of  the  time  has 
come.  The  cross  and  the  Victim  both  are  ready,  and 
Heaven  itself  consents  to  the  great  sacrifice. 

Strangely  enough,  the  first  overture  of  the  "  Passion 
music"  is  by  one  of  the  twelve — as  our  Evangelist 
names  him,  "  Judas  who  was  called  Iscariot,  being  of 
the  number  of  the  twelve "  (xxii.  3).  It  will  be 
observed  that  St.  Luke  puts  a  parenthesis  of  forty 
verses  between  the  actual  betrayal  and  its  preliminary 
stages,  so  throwing  the  conception  of  the  plot  back  to 
an  earlier  date  than  the  eve  of  the  Last  Supper,  and 
the  subsequent  narrative  is  best  read  in  the  light  of  its 
programme.  At  first  sight  it  would  appear  as  if  the 
part  of  the  betrayer  were  superfluous,  seeing  that  Jesus 
came  almost  daily  into  the  Temple,  where  He  spoke 
openly,  without  either  reserve  or  fear.  What  need 
could  there  be  for  any  intermediary  to  come  between 
the  chief  priests  and  the  Victim  of  their  hate  ?  Was 
not  His  Person  familiar  to  all  the  Temple  officials  ?  and 
could  they  not  apprehend  Him  almost  at  any  hour  ? 
Yes,  but  one  thing  stood  in  the  way,  and  that  was 
11  the  fear  of  the  people."  Jesus  evidently  had  an 
influential  following ;  the  popular  sympathies  were  on 
His  side;  and  had  the  attack  been  made  upon  Him 
during  the  day,  in  the  thronged  streets  of  the  city  or 
in  the  Temple  courts,  there  would  have  been,  almost  to 
a  certainty,  a  popular  rising  on  His  behalf.  The  arrest 
must  be  made  "  in  the  absence  of  the  multitude  "  (xxii. 
6),  which  means  that  they  must  fall  upon  Him  in  one 
of  His  quiet  hours,  and  in  one  of  His  quiet  retreats ; 
it  must  be  a  night  attack,  when  the  multitudes  are 
asleep.  Here,  then,  is  room  for  the  betrayer,  who  comes 
at  the  opportune  moment,  and  offers  himself  for  the 


xxii.  47— xxiii.]  THE  PASSION.  379 

despicable  task,  a  task  which  has  made  the  name  of 
"  Judas  "  a  synonym  for  all  that  is  treacherous  and  vile. 
How  the  base  thought  could  ever  have  come  into  the 
mind  of  Judas  it  were  hard  to  tell,  but  it  certainly  was 
not  sprung  upon  him  as  a  surprise.  But  men  lean  in 
the  direction  of  their  weakness,  and  when  they  fall  it 
is  generally  on  their  weakest  side,  the  side  on  which 
temptation  is  the  strongest.  It  was  so  here.  St.  John 
writes  him  down  in  a  single  sentence  :  u  He  was  a  thief, 
and  having  the  bag,  took  away  what  was  put  therein  " 
(John  xii.  6).  His  ruling  passion  was  the  love  of 
money,  and  in  the  delirium  of  this  fever  his  hot  hands 
dashed  to  the  ground  and  broke  in  pieces  the  tables  of 
law  and  equity  alike,  striking  at  all  the  moralities.  And 
between  robbing  his  Master  and  betraying  Him  there 
was  no  great  distance  to  traverse,  especially  when 
conscience  lay  in  a  numb  stupor,  drugged  by  opiates, 
these  tinctures  of  silver. 

Here,  then,  is  a  betrayer  ready  to  their  hand.  He 
knows  what  hour  is  best,  and  how  to  conduct  them  to 
His  secret  retreats.  And  so  Judas  "communed"  with 
the  chief  priests  and  captains,  or  he  "  talked  it  over 
with  them  "  as  the  word  means,  the  secret  conference 
ending  in  a  bargain,  as  they  "  covenanted  "  to  give  him 
money  (xxii.  5).  It  was  a  hard  and  fast  bargain ;  for 
the  word  "covenanted"  has  about  it  a  metallic  ring, 
and  opening  it  out,  it  lets  us  see  the  wordy  chaffering, 
as  Judas  abates  his  price  to  the  offer  of  the  high  priests, 
the  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  which  was  the  market  price 
of  an  ordinary  slave.  Not  that  Judas  intended  to  be  a 
participator  in  His  death,  as  the  sequel  of  his  remorse 
shows.  He  probably  thought  and  hoped  that  his 
Master  would  escape,  slipping  through  the  meshes  they 
so  cunningly  had  thrown  about  Him  ;  but  having  done 


380  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

his  part  of  the  covenant,  his  reward  would  be  sure,  for 
the  thirty  pieces  were  already  in  his  possession.  Ah, 
he  little  dreamed  how  far-reaching  his  action  would  be ! 
That  silver  key  of  his  would  set  in  motion  the  pon- 
derous wheel  which  would  not  stop  until  his  Master 
was  its  Victim,  lying  all  crushed  and  bleeding  beneath 
it !  He  only  discovered  his  mistake  when,  alas  !  it 
was  too  late  for  remedy.  Gladly  would  he  have  given 
back  his  thirty  pieces,  ay,  and  thirty  times  thirty,  to 
have  called  back  his  treacherous  "  Hail,"  but  he  could 
not.  That  "  Hail,  Master,"  had  gone  beyond  his  recall, 
reverberating  down  the  ages  and  up  among  the  stars, 
while  even  its  echoes,  as  they  came  back  to  him  in 
painful  memories,  threw  him  out  of  the  world  an 
unloved  and  guilty  suicide ! 

What  with  the  cunning  of  the  high  priests  and  the 
cold  calculations  of  Judas,  whose  mind  was  practised 
in  weighing  chances  and  providing  for  contingences, 
the  plot  is  laid  deeply  and  well.  No  detail  is  omitted  : 
the  band  of  soldiers,  who  shall  put  the  stamp  of  official- 
ism upon  the  procedure,  while  at  the  same  time  they 
cower  the  populace  and  repress  any  attempt  at  rescue ; 
the  swords  and  staves,  should  they  have  to  resort  to 
force ;  the  lanterns  and  torches,  with  which  to  light  up 
the  dark  hiding-places  of  the  garden ;  the  cords  or 
chains,  with  which  to  bind  their  Prisoner;  the  kiss, 
which  should  be  at  once  the  sign  of  recognition  and 
the  signal  for  the  arrest,  all  are  prearranged  and 
provided  ;  while  back  of  these  the  high  priests  are  keep- 
ing their  midnight  watch,  ready  for  the  mock  trial,  for 
which  the  suborned  witnesses  are  even  now  rehearsing 
their  parts.  Could  worldly  prudence  or  malicious  skill 
go  farther  ? 

Stealthily  as  the  leopard  approaches  its  victim,  the 


xxii.47-xxiii.]  THE  PASSION. 


motley  crowd  enter  the  garden,  coming  with  muffled 
steps  to  take  and  lead  away  the  Lamb  of  God.  Only 
the  glimmer  of  their  torches  gave  notice  of  their  ap- 
proach, and  even  these  burned  dull  in  the  intense 
moonlight.  But  Jesus  needed  no  audible  or  visible 
warning,  for  He  Himself  knew  just  how  events  were 
drifting,  reading  the  near  future  as  plainly  as  the  near 
past;  and  before  they  have  come  in  sight  He  has 
awoke  the  three  sleeping  sentinels  with  a  word  which 
will  effectually  drive  slumber  from  their  eyelids  :  "  Arise, 
let  us  be  going:  behold,  he  is  at  hand  that  betrayeth 
Me"  (Matt.  xxvi.  46). 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  that  Jesus  could  easily  have 
eluded   His  pursuers  had  He  cared  to  do  so.     Even 
without  any  appeal   to  His  supernatural  powers,   He 
could   have   withdrawn    Himself  under   cover   of   the 
night,  and  have  left  the  human  sleuth-hounds  foiled  of 
their  prey  and  vainly  baying  at  the  moon.     But  instead 
of  this,  He  makes  no  attempt  at  flight.     He  even  seeks 
the    glades    of   Gethsemane,    when   by   simply   going 
elsewhere  He  might  have  disconcerted  their  plot  and 
brought  their  counsel  to  nought.     And  now  He  yields 
Himself  up  to    His  death,  not  passively  merely,  but 
with  the  entire  and  active  concurrence  of  His  will.     He 
«  offered  Himself,"  as  the  writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  expresses  it  (Heb.  ix.  14),  a  free-will  Offering, 
a  voluntary  Sacrifice.     He  could,  as  He  Himself  said 
have  called  legions  of  angels  to  His  help ;  but  He  would 
not  give  the  signal,  though  it  were  no  more  than  one 
uplifted  look.     And  so   He  does  not  refuse  even  the 
kiss  of  treachery  ;  He  suffers  the  hot  lips  of  the  traitor 
to   burn   His  cheeks;    and   when  others  would  have 
shaken  off  the  viper  into  the  fire,  or  have  crushed  it 
with  the  heel  of  a  righteous  indignation,  Jesus  receives 


382  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

patiently  the  stamp  of  infamy,  His  only  word  being  a 
question  of  surprise,  not  at  the  treachery  itself,  but  at 
its  mode  :  "  Betrayest  thou  the  Son  of  man  with  a 
kiss  ? "  And  when  for  the  moment,  as  St.  John  tells 
us,  a  strange  awe  fell  upon  the  multitude,  and  they 
"went  backward  and  fell  to  the  ground,"  Jesus,  as  it 
were,  called  in  the  outshining  glories,  masking  them 
with  the  tired  and  blood-stained  humanity  that  He 
wore,  so  stilling  the  tremor  that  w7as  upon  His  enemies, 
as  He  nerved  the  very  hands  that  should  take  Him. 
And  again,  when  they  do  bind  Him,  He  offers  no  resist- 
ance ;  but  when  Peter's  quick  sword  flashes  from  its 
scabbard,  and  takes  off  the  right  ear  of  Malchus,  the 
servant  of  the  high  priest,  and  so  one  of  the  leaders 
in  the  arrest,  Jesus  asks  for  the  use  of  His  manacled 
hand — for  so  we  read  the  "  Suffer  ye  thus  far " — and 
touching  the  ear,  heals  it  at  once.  He  Himself  is 
willing  to  be  wounded  even  unto  death,  but  His 
alone  must  be  the  wounds.  His  enemies  must  not 
share  His  pain,  nor  must  His  disciples  pass  with 
Him  into  this  temple  of  His  sufferings  ;  and  He  even 
stays  to  ask  for  them  a  free  parole :  "  Let  these  go 
their  way." 

But  while  for  the  disciples  Jesus  has  but  words  of 
tender  rebuke  or  of  prayer,  while  for  Malchus  He  has 
a  word  and  a  touch  of  mercy,  and  while  even  for  Judas 
He  has  an  endearing  epithet,  "  friend,"  for  the  chief 
priests,  captains,  and  elders  He  has  severer  words. 
They  are  the  ringleaders,  the  plotters.  All  this  com- 
motion, this  needless  parade  of  hostile  strength,  these 
superfluous  insults  are  but  the  foaming  of  their  rabid 
frenzy,  the  blossoming  of  their  malicious  hate;  and 
turning  to  them  as  they  stand  gloating  in  their  super- 
cilious scorn,  He  asks,  "  Are  ye  come  out,  as  against  a 


xxii.  47—  xxiii.]  THE  PASSION.  383 

robber,  with  swords  and  staves  ?  When  I  was  daily 
with  you  ill  the  Temple,  ye  stretched  not  forth  your 
hands  against  Me  :  but  this  is  your  hour,  and  the  power 
of  darkness."  True  words,  for  they  who  should  have 
been  priests  of  Heaven  are  in  league  with  hell,  willing 
ministers  of  the  powers  of  darkness.  And  this  was 
indeed  their  hour,  but  the  hour  of  their  victory  would 
prove  the  hour  of  their  doom. 

St.  Luke,  as  do  the  other  Synoptists,  omits  the 
preliminary  trial  before  Annas,  the  ex-high  priest 
(John  xviii.  13),  and  leads  us  direct  to  the  palace  of 
Caiaphas,  whither  they  conduct  Jesus  bound.  Instead, 
however,  of  pursuing  the  main  narrative,  he  lingers  to 
gather  up  the  side-lights  of  the  palace-yard,  as  they 
cast  a  lurid  light  upon  the  character  of  Simon.  Some 
time  before,  Jesus  had  forewarned  him  of  a  coming 
ordeal,  and  which  He  called  a  Satanic  sifting ;  while 
only  a  few  hours  ago  He  had  prophesied  that  this 
night,  before  the  cock  should  crow  twice,  Peter  would 
thrice  deny  Him — a  singular  prediction,  and  one  which 
at  the  time  seemed  most  unlikely,  but  which  proved 
true  to  the  very  letter.  After  the  encounter  in  the 
garden,  Peter  retires  from  our  sight  for  awhile ;  but 
his  flight  was  neither  far  nor  long,  for  as  the  proces- 
sion moves  up  towards  the  city  Peter  and  John  follow 
it  as  a  rear-guard,  on  to  the  house  of  Annas,  and  now 
to  the  house  of  Caiaphas.  We  need  not  repeat  the 
details  of  the  story — how  John  passed  him  through  the 
door  into  the  inner  court,  and  how  he  sat,  or  "  stood," 
as  St.  John  puts  it,  by  the  charcoal  fire,  warming  him- 
self with  the  officers  and  servants.  The  differing  verbs 
only  show  the  restlessness  of  the  man,  which  was  a 
life-long  characteristic  of  Peter,  but  which  would  be 
doubly  accentuated  here,  with  suspecting  eyes  focussed 


384  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

upon  him.  Indeed,  in  the  whole  scene  of  the  court- 
yard, as  sketched  for  us  in  the  varying  but  not  dis- 
cordant narratives  of  the  Evangelists,  we  may  detect 
the  vibrations  of  constant  movement  and  the  ripple- 
marks  of  intense  excitement. 

When  challenged  the  first  time,  by  the  maid  who 
kept  the  door,  Peter  answered  with  a  sharp,  blunt 
negative:  he  was  not  a  disciple;  he  did  not  even 
know  Him.  At  the  second  challenge,  by  another 
maid,  he  replied  with  an  absolute  denial,  but  added  to 
his  denial  the  confirmation  of  an  oath.  At  the  third 
challenge,  by  one  of  the  men  standing  near,  he  denied 
as  before,  but  added  to  his  denial  both  an  oath  and  an 
anathema.  It  is  rather  unfortunate  that  our  version 
renders  it  (Matt.  xxvi.  74;  Mark  xiv.  71),  "He  began  to 
curse  and  to  swear ; "  for  these  words  have  a  peculiarly 
ill  savour,  a  taste  of  Billingsgate,  which  the  original 
words  have  not.  To  our  ear,  "  to  curse  and  to  swear  " 
are  the  accomplishments  of  a  loose  and  a  foul  tongue, 
which  throws  out  its  fires  of  passion  in  profanity,  or  in 
coarse  obscenities,  as  it  revels  in  immoralities  of  speech. 
The  words  in  the  New  Testament,  however,  have  a 
meaning  altogether  different.  Here  "to  swear"  means 
to  take  an  oath,  as  in  our  courts  of  law,  or  rather  to 
make  an  affirmation.  Even  God  Himself  is  spoken  of  as 
swearing,  as  in  the  song  of  Zacharias  (i.  73),  where 
He  is  said  to  have  remembered  His  holy  covenant, 
"the  oath  which  He  sware  unto  Abraham  our  father." 
Indeed,  this  form  of  speech,  the  oath  or  affirmation, 
had  come  into  too  general  use,  as  we  may  see  from  the 
paragraph  upon  oaths  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
(Matt.  v.  33-37).  Jesus  here  condemned  it,  it  is  true, 
for  to  Him  who  was  Truth  itself  our  word  should  be  as 
our  bond;  but  His  reference  to  it  shows  how  prevalent 


xxii.47— xxiii.]  THE  PASSION.  385 

the  custom  was,  even  amongst  strict  legalists  and 
moralists.  When,  then,  Peter  "swore,"  it  does  not  mean 
that  he  suddenly  became  profane,  but  simply  that  he 
backed  up  his  denial  with  a  solemn  affirmation.  So, 
too,  with  the  word  "curse;"  it  has  not  our  modern 
meaning.  Literally  rendered,  it  would  be,  "He  put 
himself  under  an  anathema,"  which  "anathema"  was 
the  bond  or  penalty  he  was  willing  to  pay  if  his  words 
should  not  be  true.  In  Acts  xxiii.  12  we  have  the 
cognate  word,  where  the  "anathema"  was,  "They  would 
neither  eat  nor  drink  till  they  had  killed  Paul."  The 
"  curse  "  thus  was  nothing  immoral  in  itself;  it  was  a 
form  of  speech  even  the  purest  might  use,  a  sort  of 
underlined  affirmation. 

But  though  the  language  of  Peter  was  neither  profane 
nor  foul,  though  in  his  "oath"  and  in  his  "curse" 
there  is  nothing  for  which  the  purest  taste  need 
apologize,  yet  here  was  his  sin,  his  grievous  sin :  he 
made  use  of  the  oath  and  the  curse  to  back  up  a 
deliberate  and  cowardly  lie,  even  as  men  to-day  will 
kiss  the  book  to  make  God's  Word  of  truth  a  cover 
for  perjury.  How  shall  we  explain  the  sad  fall  of 
this  captain-disciple,  who  was  first  and  foremost  of 
the  Twelve  ?  Were  these  denials  but  the  "  wild  and 
wandering  cries "  of  some  delirium  ?  We  find  that 
Peter's  lips  did  sometimes  throw  off  unreasoning  and 
untimely  words,  speaking  like  one  in  a  dream,  as  he 
proposed  the  three  tabernacles  on  the  mount,  "not 
knowing  what  he  said."  But  this  is  no  delirium,  no 
ecstasy;  his  mind  is  clear  as  the  sky  overhead,  his 
thought  bright  and  sharp  as  was  his  sword  just  now. 
No,  it  was  not  a  failure  in  the  reason ;  it  was  a  sadder 
failure  in  the  heart.  Of  physical  courage  Simon  had 
an  abundance,  but  he  was  somewhat  deficient  in  moral 

25 


386  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

courage.  His  surname  "  Peter  "  was  as  yet  but  a  fore- 
name, a  prophecy;  for  the  "  rock  "-granite  was  yet  in 
a  state  of  flux,  pliant,  somewhat  wavering,  and  too 
easily  impressed.  It  must  "  be  dipped  in  baths  of  hiss- 
ing tears  "  ere  it  hardens  into  the  foundation-rock  for 
the  new  temple.  In  the  garden  he  was  too  ready,  too 
brave.  "Shall  we  smite  with  the  sword?"  he  asked, 
matching  the  "we,"  which  numbered  two  swords, 
against  a  whole  Roman  cohort;  but  that  was  in  the 
presence  of  his  Master,  and  in  the  consciousness  of 
strength  which  that  Presence  gave.  It  is  different 
now.  His  Master  is  Himself  a  bound  and  helpless 
Prisoner.  His  own  sword  is  taken  from  him,  or,  which 
is  the  same  thing,  it  is  ordered  to  its  sheath.  The 
bright  dream  of  temporal  sovereignty,  which  like  a 
beautiful  mirage  had  played  on  the  horizon  of  his 
thought,  had  suddenly  faded,  withdrawing  itself  into 
the  darkness.  Simon  is  disappointed,  perplexed,  be- 
wildered, and  with  hopes  shattered,  faith  stunned,  and 
love  itself  in  a  momentary  conflict  with  self-love,  he 
loses  heart  and  becomes  demoralized,  his  better  nature 
falling  to  pieces  like  a  routed  army. 

Such  were  the  conditions  of  Peter's  denial,  the  strain 
and  pressure  under  which  his  courage  and  his  faith 
gave  way,  and  almost  before  he  knew  it  he  had  thrice 
denied  his  Lord,  tossing  away  the  Christ  he  would  die 
for  on  his  cold,  impetuous  words,  as,  with  a  tinge  of 
disrespect  in  his  tone  and  word,  he  called  Him  "  the 
Man."  But  hardly  had  the  denial  been  made  and  the 
anathema  been  said  when  suddenly  the  cock  crew.  It 
was  but  the  familiar  call  of  an  unwitting  bird,  but  it 
smote  upon  Peters  ear  like  a  near  clap  of  thunder ;  it 
brought  to  his  mind  those  words  of  his  Master,  which 
he  had  thought  were  uncertain  parable,  but  which  he 


xxii.  47— xxiii.]  THE  PASSION.  387 

finds  now  were  certain  prophecy,  and  thus  let  in  a 
rush  of  sweet,  old-time  memories.  Conscience-stricken, 
and  with  a  load  of  terrible  guilt  pressing  upon  his  soul, 
he  looks  up  timidly  towards  the  Lord  he  has  forsworn. 
Will  He  deny  him,  on  one  of  His  bitter  "woes"  cast- 
ing him  down  to  the  Gehenna  he  deserves?  No; 
Jesus  looks  upon  Peter;  nay,  He  even  "turns"  round 
toward  him,  that  He  may  look ;  and  as  Peter  saw  that 
look,  the  face  all  streaked  with  blood  and  lined  with  an 
unutterable  anguish,  when  he  felt  that  glance  fixed 
upon  him  of  an  upbraiding  but  a  pitying  and  forgiving 
love,  that  look  of  Jesus  pierced  the  inmost  soul  of  the 
denying,  agnostic  disciple,  breaking  up  the  fountains  of 
his  heart,  and  sending  him  out  to  weep  "bitterly." 
That  look  was  the  supreme  moment  in  Peter's  life.  It 
forgave,  while  it  rebuked  him;  it  passed  through  his 
nature  like  refining  fire,  burning  out  what  was  weak, 
and  selfish  and  sordid,  and  transforming  Simon,  the 
boaster,  the  man  of  words,  into  Peter,  the  man  of 
deeds,  the  man  of  "rock." 

But  if  in  the  outer  court  truth  is  thrown  to  the  winds, 
within  the  palace  justice  herself  is  parodied.  It  would 
seem  as  if  the  first  interview  of  Caiaphas  with  Jesus 
were  private,  or  in  the  presence  at  most  of  a  few 
personal  attendants.  But  at  this  meeting,  as  the  High 
Priest  of  the  New  was  arraigned  before  the  high  priest 
of  the  Old  Dispensation,  nothing  was  elicited.  Ques- 
tioned as  to  His  disciples  and  as  to  His  doctrine,  Jesus 
maintained  a  dignified  silence,  only  speaking  to  remind 
His  pseudo-judge  that  there  were  certain  rules  of  pro- 
cedure with  which  he  himself  was  bound  to  comply. 
He  would  not  enlighten  him;  what  He  had  said  He 
had  said  openly,  in  the  Temple;  and  if  he  wished  to 
know  he  must  appeal  to  those  who  heard  Him,  he  must 


388  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

call  his  witnesses;  an  answer  which  brought  Him  a 
sharp  and  cruel  blow  from  one  of  the  officers,  the  first 
of  a  sad  rain  of  blows  which  bruised  His  flesh  and 
made  His  visage  marred  more  than  any  man's. 

The  private  interview  ended,  the  doors  were  thrown 
open  to  the  mixed  company  of  chief  priests,  elders,  and 
scribes,  probably  the  same  as  had  witnessed  the  arrest, 
with  others  of  the  council  who  had  been  hastily  sum- 
moned, and  who  were  known  to  be  avowedly  hostile 
to  Jesus.  It  certainly  was  not  a  properly  constituted 
tribunal,  a  council  of  the  Sanhedrim,  which  alone  had 
the  power  to  adjudicate  on  questions  purely  religious. 
It  was  rather  a  packed  jury,  a  Star  Chamber  of  self- 
appointed  assessors.  With  the  exception  that  witnesses 
were  called  (and  even  these  were  "false,"  with  dis- 
crepant stories  which  neutralized  their  testimony  and 
made  it  valueless),  the  whole  proceedings  were  a  hurried 
travesty  of  justice,  unconstitutional,  and  so  illegal.  But 
such  was  the  virulent  hate  of  the  hierarchy  of  the 
Temple,  they  were  prepared  to  break  through  all 
legalities  to  gain  their  end ;  yea,  they  would  even 
have  broken  the  tables  of  the  law  themselves,  if  they 
might  only  have  stoned  the  Nazarene  with  the  frag- 
ments, and  then  have  buried  Him  under  the  rude  cairn. 
The  only  testimony  they  could  find  was  that  He  had 
said  He  would  destroy  the  temple  made  with  hands, 
and  in  three  days  build  another  made  without  hands 
(Mark  xiv.  58) ;  and  even  in  this  the  statements  of 
the  two  witnesses  did  not  agree,  while  both  were 
garbled  misrepresentations  of  the  truth. 

Hitherto  Jesus  had  remained  silent,  and  when 
Caiaphas  sprang  from  his  seat,  asking,  "Answerest 
Thou  nothing  ?  "  seeking  to  extract  some  broken  speech 
by  the  pressure  of  an  imperious  mien  and  browbeating 


xxii.  47— xxiii.J  THE  PASSION.  389 

words,  Jesus  answered  by  a  majestic  silence.  Why 
should  He  cast  His  pearls  before  these  swine,  who 
were  even  now  turning  upon  Him  to  rend  Him  ?  But 
when  the  high  priest  asked,  "  Art  Thou  the  Christ  ? " 
Jesus  replied,  "  If  I  tell  you,  ye  will  not  believe:  and 
if  I  ask  you,  ye  will  not  answer.  But  from  henceforth 
shall  the  Son  of  man  be  seated  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
power  of  God;"  thus  anticipating  His  enthronement 
far  above  all  principalities  and  powers,  in  His  eternal 
reign.  The  words  "  Son  of  man  "  struck  with  loud 
vibrations  upon  the  ears  of  His  enraged  jurors,  sug- 
gesting the  antithesis,  and  immediately  all  speak  at  once, 
as  they  clamour,  "  Art  Thou,  then,  the  Son  of  God  ?  " 
a  question  which  Caiaphas  repeats  as  an  adjuration,  and 
which  Jesus  answers  with  a  brief,  calm,  °  Ye  say  that 
I  am."  It  was  a  Divine  confession,  at  once  the  con- 
fession of  His  Messiahship  and  a  confession  of  His 
Divinity.  It  was  all  that  His  enemies  wTanted  ;  there 
was  no  need  of  further  witnesses,  and  Caiaphas  rent 
his  clothes  and  asked  his  echoes  of  what  the  blasphemer 
was  worthy  ?  And  opening  their  clenched  teeth,  his 
echoes  shouted,  "  Death  ! " 

The  lingering  dawn  had  not  broken  when  the  high 
priest  and  his  barking  hounds  had  run  their  Prey  down 
to  death — that  is,  as  far  as  they  were  allowed  to  go ; 
and  as  the  meeting  of  the  full  council  could  not  be 
held  till  the  broad  daylight,  the  men  who  have  Jesus 
in  charge  extemporize  a  little  interlude  of  their  own. 
Setting  Jesus  in  the  midst,  they  mock  Him,  and  make 
sport  of  Him,  heaping  upon  that  Face,  still  streaked 
with  its  sweat  of  blood,  all  the  indignities  a  malign 
ingenuity  can  suggest  Now  they  u  cover  His  face " 
(Mark  xiv.  65),  throwing  around  it  one  of  their  loose 
robes;   now   they    "blindfold"   Him,  and  then  strike 


390  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

"Him  on  the  face"  (xxii.  64),  as  they  derisively  ask 
that  He  will  prophecy  who  smote  Him ;  while,  again, 
they  "  spit  in  His  face  "  (Matt.  xxvi.  67),  besmearing 
it  with  the  venom  of  unclean,  hissing  lips !  And  amid 
it  all  the  patient  Sufferer  answers  not  a  word ;  He  is 
silent,  dumb,  the  Lamb  before  His  shearers. 

Soon  as  the  day  had  fairly  broke,  the  Sanhedrists, 
with  the  chief  priests,  meet  in  full  council,  to  give  effect 
to  the  decision  of  the  earlier  conclave ;  and  since  it 
is  net  in  their  power  to  do  more,  they  determine  to 
hand  Jesus  over  to  the  secular  power,  going  to  Pilate 
in  a  body,  thus  giving  their  informal  endorsement  to 
the  demand  for  His  death.  So  now  the  scene  shifts 
from  the  palace  of  Caiaphas  to  the  Praetorium,  a  short 
distance  as  measured  by  the  linear  scale,  but  a  far 
remove  if  we  gauge  thought  or  if  we  consider  climatic 
influences.  The  palace  of  Caiaphas  lay  toward  the 
Orient ;  the  Praetorium  was  a  growth  of  the  Occident, 
a  bit  of  Western  life  transplanted  to  the  once  fruitful, 
but  now  sterile  East.  Within  the  palace  the  air  was 
close  and  mouldy ;  thought  could  not  breathe,  and 
religion  was  little  more  than  a  mummy,  tightly  bound 
by  the  grave-clothes  of  tradition,  and  all  scented  with 
old-time  cosmetics.  Within  the  Praetorium  the  atmo- 
sphere was  at  least  freer;  there  was  more  room  to 
breathe ;  for  Rome  was  a  sort  of  libertine  in  religion, 
finding  room  within  her  Pantheon  for  all  the  deities 
of  this  and  almost  any  other  world.  In  matters  of 
religion  the  Roman  power  was  perfectly  indifferent, 
her  only  policy  the  policy  of  laissez  faire;  and  when 
Pilate  first  saw  Jesus  and  His  crowd  of  accusers  he 
sought  to  dismiss  them  at  once,  remitting  Him  to  be 
judged  "  according  to  your  law,"  putting,  doubtless,  an 
inflection  of  contempt  upon  the  "your."     It  was  not 


xxii.  47— xxiii.]  THE  PASSION.  391 

until  they  had  shifted  the  charge  altogether,  making 
it  one  of  sedition  instead  of  blasphemy,  as  they  accuse 
Jesus  of  "  perverting  our  nation,  and  forbidding  to 
give  tribute  to  Caesar,"  that  Pilate  took  the  case 
seriously  in  hand.  But  from  the  first  his  sympathies 
evidently  were  with  the  strange  and  lonely  Prophet. 

Left  comparatively  alone  with  Pilate — for  the  crowd 
would  not  risk  the  defilement  of  the  Praetorium — Jesus 
still  maintained  a  dignified  reserve  and  silence,  not  even 
speaking  to  Pilate's  question  of  surprise,  "Answerest 
Thou  nothing  ?  "  Jesus  would  speak  no  word  in  self- 
defence,  not  even  to  take  out  the  twist  His  accusers 
had  put  into  His  words,  as  they  distorted  their  meaning. 
When,  however,  He  was  questioned  as  to  His  mission 
and  Realty  He  spoke  directfy,  as  He  had  spoken  before 
to  Caiaphas,  not,  however,  claiming  to  be  King  of  the 
Jews,  as  His  enemies  asserted,  but  Lord  of  a  kingdom 
which  was  not  of  this  world  ;  that  is,  not  like  earthly 
empires,  whose  bounds  are  mountains  and  seas,  and 
whose  thrones  rest  upon  pillars  of  steel,  the  carnal 
weapons  which  first  upbuild,  and  then  support  them. 
He  was  a  King  indeed ;  but  His  realm  was  the  wide 
realm  of  mind  and  heart ;  His  was  a  kingdom  in  which 
love  was  law,  and  love  was  force,  a  kingdom  which 
had  no  limitations  of  speech,  and  no  bounds,  either  of 
time  or  space. 

Pilate  was  perplexed  and  awed.  Governor  though 
he  was,  he  mentally  did  homage  before  the  strange 
Imperator  whose  nature  was  imperial,  whatever  His 
realm  might  be.  "I  find  no  fault  in  this  Man,"  he 
said,  attesting  the  innocence  he  had  discovered  in  the 
mien  and  tones  of  his  Prisoner;  but  his  attestation 
only  awoke  a  fiercer  cry  from  the  chief  priests,  "  that  He 
was  a  seditious   person,   stirring  up    the   people,  and 


392  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

preparing  insurrection  even  from  Galilee  to  Jerusalem." 
The  word  Galilee  caught  Pilate's  ear,  and  at  once 
suggested  a  plan  that  would  shift  the  responsibility 
from  himself.  He  would  change  the  venue  from  Judaea 
to  Galilee ;  and  since  the  Prisoner  was  a  Galilean,  he 
would  send  Him  to  the  Tetrarch  of  Galilee,  Herod, 
who  happened  to  be  in  Jerusalem  at  the  time.  It  was 
the  stratagem  of  a  wavering  mind,  of  a  man  whose 
courage  was  not  equal  to  his  convictions,  of  a  man 
with  a  double  purpose.  He  would  like  to  save  his 
Prisoner,  but  he  must  save  himself ;  and  when  the  two 
purposes  came  into  collision,  as  they  did  soon,  the 
"might"  of  a  timid  desire  had  to  give  way  to  the 
"  must n  of  a  prudential  necessity ;  the  Christ  was 
pushed  aside  and  nailed  to  a  cross,  that  Self  might 
survive  and  reign.  And  so  "  Pilate  sent  Him  to 
Herod." 

Herod  was  proud  to  have  this  deference  shown  him 
in  Jerusalem,  and  by  his  rival,  too,  and  "exceeding 
glad  "  that,  by  a  caprice  of  fortune,  his  long-cherished 
desire,  which  had  been  baffled  hitherto,  of  seeing  the 
Prophet  of  Galilee,  should  be  realized.  He  found  it, 
however,  a  disappointing  and  barren  interview;  for 
Jesus  would  work  no  miracle,  as  he  had  hoped ;  He 
would  not  even  speak.  To  all  the  questions  and  threats 
of  Herod,  Jesus  maintained  a  rigid  and  almost  scornful 
silence ;  and  though  to  Pilate  He  had  spoken  at  some 
length,  Jesus  would  have  no  intercourse  with  the  mur- 
derer of  the  Baptist.  Herod  had  silenced  the  Voice 
of  the  wilderness ;  he  should  not  hear  the  Incarnate 
Word.  Jesus  thus  set  Herod  at  nought,  counting  him 
as  a  nothing,  ignoring  him  purposely  and  utterly  ;  and 
stung  with  rage  that  his  authority  should  be  thus  con- 
temned before  the  chief  priests  and  scribes,  Herod  set 


xxii.  47—  xxiii.]  THE  PASSION.  393 

his  Victim  w  at  nought,"  mocking  Him  in  coarse  banter ; 
and  as  if  the  whole  proceeding  were  but  a  farce,  a  bit 
of  comedy,  he  invests  Him  with  one  of  his  glittering 
robes,  and  sends  the  Prophet-King  back  to  Pilate. 

For  a  brief  space  Jesus  finds  shelter  by  the  judgment- 
seat,  removed  from  the  presence  of  His  accusers,  though 
still  within  hearing  of  their  cries,  as  Pilate  himself 
keeps  the  wolves  at  bay.  Intensely  desirous  of  acquit- 
ting his  Prisoner,  he  leaves  the  seat  of  judgment  to 
become  His  advocate.  He  appeals  to  their  sense  of 
justice ;  that  Jesus  is  entirely  innocent  of  any  crime  or 
fault.  They  reply  that  according  to  their  law  He  ought 
to  die,  because  He  called  Himself  the  "Son  of  God." 
He  appeals  to  their  custom  of  having  some  prisoner 
released  at  this  feast,  and  he  suggests  that  it  would  be 
a  personal  favour  if  they  would  permit  him  to  release 
Jesus.  They  answer,  "  Not  this  man,  but  Barabbas." 
He  offers  to  meet  them  half-way,  in  a  sort  of  com- 
promise, and  out  of  deference  to  their  wishes  he  will 
chastise  Jesus  if  they  will  consent  to  let  Him  go ;  but 
it  is  not  chastisement  they  want — they  themselves  could 
have  done  that — but  death.  He  appeals  to  their  pity, 
leading  Jesus  forth,  wearing  the  purple  robe,  as  if  to 
ask,  u  Is  it  not  enough  already  ?  "  but  they  cry  even 
more  fiercely  for  His  death.  Then  he  yields  so  far  to 
their  clamour  as  to  deliver  up  Jesus  to  be  mocked  and 
scourged,  as  the  soldiers  play  at  "  royalty,"  arraying 
Him  in  the  purple  robe,  putting  a  reed  in  His  hand  as 
a  mock  sceptre,  and  a  crown  of  thorns  upon  His  head, 
then  turning  to  smite  Him  on  the  head,  to  spit  in  His 
face,  and  to  kneel  before  Him  in  mock  homage,  saluting 
Him,  "Hail,  King  of  the  Jews!"  And  Pilate  allows 
all  this,  himself  leading  Jesus  forth  in  this  mock  array, 
as  he  bids  the  crowd,  "Behold  your  King!"  And  why? 


394  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.   LUKE. 

has  He  experienced  such  a  revulsion  of  feeling  towards 
his  Prisoner  that  he  can  now  vie  with  the  chief  priests 
in  his  coarse  insult  of  Jesus  ?  Not  so ;  but  it  is  Pilate's 
last  appeal.  It  is  a  sop  thrown  out  to  the  mob,  in  hopes 
that  it  may  slake  their  terrible  blood-thirst,  a  sacrifice 
of  pain  and  shame  which  may  perhaps  prevent  the 
greater  sacrifice  of  life  ;  while  at  the  same  time  it  is  an 
ocular  demonstration  of  the  incongruity  of  their  charge ; 
for  His  Kingship,  whatever  it  might  be,  was  nothing 
the  Roman  power  had  to  fear ;  it  was  not  even  to  be 
taken  in  a  serious  way  ;  it  was  a  matter  for  ridicule, 
and  not  for  revenge,  something  they  could  easily  afford 
to  play  with.  But  this  last  appeal  was  futile  as  the 
others  had  been,  and  the  crowd  only  became  more 
fierce  as  they  saw  in  Pilate  traces  of  weakening  and 
wavering.  At  last  the  courage  of  Pilate  breaks  down 
utterly  before  the  threat  that  he  will  not  be  Caesar's 
friend  if  he  let  this  man  go,  and  he  delivers  up  Jesus 
to  their  will,  not,  however,  before  he  has  called  for 
water,  and  by  a  symbolic  washing  of  his  hands  has 
thrown  back,  or  tried  to  throw  back,  upon  his  accusers, 
the  crime  of  shedding  innocent  blood.  Weak,  wavering 
Pilate— 

"  Making  his  high  place  the  lawless  perch 
Of  winged  ambitions ;  " 

overridden  by  his  fears  ;  governor,  but  governed  by  his 
subjects ;  sitting  on  the  judgment-seat,  and  then  abdi- 
cating his  position  of  judge;  the  personification  of 
law,  and  condemning  the  Innocent  contrary  to  the  law ; 
giving  up  to  the  extremest  penalty  and  punishment  One 
whom  he  has  thrice  proclaimed  as  guiltless,  without 
fault,  and  that,  too,  in  the  face  of  a  Heaven-sent  warn- 
ing dream !  In  the  wild  inrush  of  his  fears,  which 
swept  over  him  like  an  inbreaking  sea,  his  own  weak 


«ii.  47— xxiii.]  THE  PASSION.  395 

will  was  borne  down,  and  reason,  right,  conscience,  all 
were  drowned.  Verily  Pilate  washes  his  hands  in 
vain ;  he  cannot  wipe  off  his  responsibility  or  wipe  out 
the  deep  stains  of  blood. 

And  now  we   come   to  the   last  act  of  the  strange 
drama,   which   the   four   Evangelists   give    from   their 
different  stand-points,    and  so  with  varying   but   not 
differing   details.     We   will   read  it   mainly  from    the 
narrative  of  St.  Luke.     The  shadow  of  the  cross  has 
long  been  a  vivid  conception  of  His  mind,  and  again 
and  again  we  can  see  its  reflection  in  the  current  of 
His  clear  speech;  now,  however,  it  is  present  to  His 
sight,  close  at  hand,  a  grim  and  terrible  reality.     It  is 
laid  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  Sufferer,  and  the  Victim 
carries  His  altar  through  the  streets  of  the  city  and 
up   towards   the   Mount  of  Sacrifice,  until  He  faints 
beneath   the  burden,  when    the  precious   load  is   laid 
upon   Simon  the   Cyrenian,  who,    coming   out  of  the 
country,  met  the  procession  as  it  issued  from  the  gate. 
It  was  probably  during  this  halt  by  the  way  that  the 
incident  occurred,  related  only  by  our  Evangelist,  when 
the  women  who  followed  with  the  multitude  broke  out 
into  loud  lamentation  and  weeping,  the  first  expression 
of  human  sympathy  Jesus  has  received  through  all  the 
agonies  of  the  long  morning.     And  even  this  sympathy 
He  gave  back  to  those  who  proffered  it,  bidding  these 
"daughters  of  Jerusalem"  weep  not  for  Him,  but  for 
themselves  and  for  their  children,  because  of  the  day 
of  doom  which  was  fast  coming  upon  their  city  and  on 
them.     Thus  Jesus  pushes  from  Him  the  cup  of  human 
sympathy,  as  afterwards  He  refused  the  cup  of  mingled 
wine  and  myrrh :  He  would  drink  the  bitter  draught 
unsweetened ;  alone  and  all  unaided  He  would  wrestle 
with  death,  and  conquer. 


jq6  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

It  is  somewhat  singular  that  none  of  the  Evangelists 
have  left  us  a  clue  by  which  we  can  recognize,  with 
any  certainty,  the  scene  of  the  Crucifixion.  In  our 
thoughts  and  in  our  songs  Calvary  is  a  mount,  towering 
high  among  the  mounts  of  God,  higher  than  Sinai 
itself.  And  such  it  is,  potentially ;  for  it  has  the  sweep 
of  all  the  earth,  and  touches  heaven.  But  the  Scrip- 
tures do  not  call  it  a  "mount,"  but  only  a  " place." 
Indeed,  the  name  of  "Calvary"  does  not  appear  in 
Scripture,  except  as  the  Latin  translation  of  the  Greek 
Kranion,  or  the  Hebrew  Golgotha,  both  of  which  mean 
"  the  place  of  the  skull."  All  that  we  can  safely  say 
is  that  it  was  probably  some  rounded  eminence,  as 
the  name  would  indicate,  and  as  modern  explorations 
would  suggest,  on  the  north  of  the  city,  near  the  tomb 
of  Jeremiah. 

But  if  the  site  of  the  cross  is  only  given  us  in  a 
casual  way,  its  position  is  noted  by  all  the  Evangelists 
with  exactness.  It  was  between  the  crosses  of  two 
malefactors  or  bandits;  as  St.  John  puts  it,  in  an 
emphatic,  Divine  tautology,  "On  either  side  one,  and 
Jesus  in  the  midst."  Possibly  they  intended  it  as 
their  last  insult,  heaping  shame  upon  shame;  but 
unwittingly  they  only  fulfilled  the  Scripture,  which  had 
prophesied  that  He  would  be  "numbered  among  the 
transgressors,"  and  that  He  would  make  His  grave 
"  with  the  wicked  "  in  His  death. 

St.  Luke  omits  several  details,  which  St.  John,  who 
was  an  eye-witness,  could  give  more  fully;  but  he 
stays  to  speak  of  the  parting  of  His  raiment,  and  he 
adds,  what  the  ethers  omit,  the  prayer  for  His  execu- 
tioners, "  Father,  forgive  them ;  for  they  know  not  what 
they  do,"  an  incident  he  probably  had  heard  from  one 
of  the  band  of  crucifiers,  perhaps  the  centurion  himself. 


xxii.47—  xxiii.]  THE  PASSION.  397 

With  a   true  artistic  skill,  however,  and  with  brief 
touches,  he  draws  for  us  the  scene  on  which  all  ages 
will  reverently  gaze.     In  the  foreground  is  the  cross 
of  Jesus,  with  its  trilingual  superscription,   "This   is 
the  King  of  the  Jews ; "  while  close  beside  it  are  the 
crosses   of  the   thieves,    whose  very   faces   St.   Luke 
lights  up  with  life  and  character.     Standing  near  are 
the  soldiers,  relieving  the  ennui  with  cruel   sport,  as 
they   rail   at   the  Christ,    offering   Him   vinegar,    and 
bidding  Him  come  down.     Then  we  have  the  rulers, 
crowding  up  near  the  cross,  scoffing,  and  pelting  their 
Victim  with  ribald  jests,  the  "  people  "  standing  back, 
beholding;  while  "afar  off,"  in  the  distance,  are  His 
acquaintance  and  the  women  from  Galilee.     But  if  our 
Evangelist  touches  these  incidents  lightly,  he  lingers 
to  give  us  one  scene  of  the  cross  in  full,  which  the 
other  Evangelists  omit.     Has  Jesus  found  an  advocate 
in  Pilate?  has  He  found  a  cross-bearer  in  the  Cyre- 
nian,    and   sympathisers    in    the    lamenting   women  ? 
He   finds   now  upon    His   cross  a   testimony  to  His 
Messiahship  more   clear  and   more  eloquent  than  the 
hieroglyphs   of  Pilate;   for  when  one  of  the   thieves 
railed  upon  Him,  shouting  out  u  Christ "  in  mockery, 
Jesus  made  no  reply.     The  other  answered  for  Him, 
rebuking  his  fellow,  while  attesting  the  innocence  of 
Jesus.     Then,  with  a  prayer  in  which  penitence  and 
faith  were  strangely  blended,  he  turned  to  the  Divine 
Victim  and  said,   "Jesus,   remember  me  when  Thou 
comest  in  Thy  kingdom."     Rare  faith !     Through  the 
tears  of  his  penitence,  as  through  lenses  of  light,  he 
sees  the  new  Dawn  to  which  this  fearful  night  will 
give   birth,   the  kingdom  which  is  sure  to  come,  and 
which,  coming,  will  abide,   and  he  salutes   the  dying 
One  as  Christ,  the  King !     Jesus  did  not  reply  to  the 


398  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

railer;  He  received  in  silence  his  barbed  taunts;  but 
to  this  cry  for  mercy  Jesus  had  a  quick  response — 
"To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  Me  in  Paradise/'  so 
admitting  the  penitent  into  His  kingdom  at  once,  and, 
ere  the  day  is  spent,  passing  him  up  to  the  abodes  of 
the  Blessed,  even  to  Paradise  itself. 

And  now  there  comes  the  hush  of  a  great  silence 
and  the  awe  of  a  strange  darkness.  From  the  sixth 
to  the  ninth  hour,  over  the  cross,  and  the  city,  and 
the  land,  hung  the  shadow  of  an  untimely  night,  when 
the  "  sun's  light  failed,"  as  our  Evangelist  puts  it ; 
while  in  the  Temple  was  another  portent,  the  veil,  which 
was  suspended  between  the  Holy  Place  and  the  Most 
Holy,  being  rent  in  the  midst !  The  mysterious  dark- 
ness was  but  the  pall  for  a  mysterious  death ;  for  Jesus 
cried  with  a  loud  voice  into  the  gUom,  "  Father,  into 
Thy  hands  I  commend  My  spirit,"  and  then,  as  it  reads 
in  language  which  is  not  applied  to  mortal  man,  "  He 
gave  up  the  ghost."  He  dismissed  His  spirit,  a  perfectly 
voluntary  Sacrifice,  laying  down  the  life  which  no  man 
was  able  to  take  from  Him. 

And  why  ?  What  meant  this  death,  which  was  at 
once  the  end  and  the  crown  of  His  life  ?  What  meant 
the  cross,  which  thus  draws  to  itself  all  the  lines  of 
His  earthly  life,  while  it  throws  its  shadow  back  into 
the  Old  Dispensation,  over  all  its  altars  and  its  pass- 
overs  ?  To  other  mortals  death  is  but  an  appendix 
to  the  life,  a  negation,  a  something  we  cculd  dispense 
with,  were  it  possible  thus  to  be  exempt  from  the  bond 
we  all  must  pay  to  Nature.  But  not  so  was  it  with 
Jesus.  He  was  born  that  He  might  die;  He  lived 
that  He  might  die;  it  was  for  this  hour  on  Calvary 
that  He  came  into  the  world,  the  Word  being  made 
flesh,  that  the  sacred  flesh  might  be  transfixed  to  a 


xxii.  47-xxiii.]  THE  PASSION.  399 

cross,  and  buried  in  an  earthly  grave.  Surely,  then,  it 
was  not  as  man  that  Jesus  died  ;  He  died  for  man  ;  He 
died  as  the  Son  of  God  1  And  when  upon  the  cross 
the  horror  of  a  great  darkness  fell  upon  His  soul,  and 
He  who  had  borne  every  torture  that  earth  could 
inflict  without  one  murmur  of  impatience  or  cry  of 
pain,  cried,  with  a  terrible  anguish  in  His  voice,  "  My 
God,  My  God,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  Me  ? "  we 
can  interpret  the  great  horror  and  the  strange  cry  but 
in  one  way  :  the  Lamb  of  God  was  bearing  away  the 
sin  of  the  world;  He  was  tasting  for  man  the  bitter 
pains  of  the  second  death  ;  and  as  He  drinks  the  cup 
of  the  wrath  of  God  against  sin  He  feels  passing  over 
Him  the  awful  loneliness  of  a  soul  bereft  of  God,  the 
chill  of  the  "  outer  darkness  "  itself.  Jesus  lived  as  our 
Example ;  He  died  as  our  Atonement,  opening  by  His 
blood  the  Holiest  of  all,  even  His  highest  heaven. 

And  so  the  cross  of  Jesus  must  ever  remain  "in  the 
midst,"  the  one  bright  centre  of  all  our  hopes  and  all 
our  songs  ;  it  must  be  "  in  the  midst "  of  our  toil,  at 
once  our  pattern  of  service  and  our  inspiration.  Nay, 
the  cross  of  Jesus  will  be  "  in  the  midst  "  of  heaven 
itself,  the  centre  towards  which  the  circles  of  redeemed 
saints  will  bow,  and  round  which  the  ceaseless  "Alleluia  " 
will  roll ;  for  what  is  "  the  Lamb  in  the  midst  of  the 
throne"  (Rev.  vii.  17)  but  the  cross  transfigured,  and 
the  Lamb  eternally  enthroned  ? 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  FIRST  LORD'S  DAY. 
St.  Luke  xxiv. 

THE  Sabbath  came  and  went  over  the  grave  of  its 
Lord,  and  silence  reigned  in  Joseph's  garden, 
broken  only  by  the  mailed  sentinels,  who  laughed  and 
chatted  by  the  sealed  sepulchre.  As  to  the  disciples, 
this  "high  day"  is  a  dies  non  to  them,  for  the  curtain 
of  a  deep  silence  hides  them  from  our  view.  Did  they 
go  up  to  the  Temple  to  join  in  the  Psalm,  how  "  His 
mercy  endureth  for  ever  "  ?  Scarcely  :  their  thoughts 
were  transfixed  to  the  cross,  which  haunted  them  like 
a  horrid  dream ;  its  rude  dark  wood  had  stunned  them 
for  awhile,  as  it  broke  down  their  faith  and  shattered 
all  their  hopes.  But  if  the  constellation  of  the  Apostles 
passes  into  temporary  eclipse,  with  no  beam  of  inspired 
light  falling  upon  them,  "  the  women "  are  not  thus 
hidden,  for  we  read  "And  on  the  Sabbath  day  they 
rested,  according  to  the  commandment."  It  is  true  it 
is  but  a  negative  attitude  that  is  portrayed,  but  it  is 
an  exceedingly  beautiful  one.  It  is  Love  waiting  upon 
Duty.  The  voices  of  their  grief  are  not  allowed  to 
become  so  excessive  and  clamorous  as  to  drown  the 
Divine  voice,  speaking  through  the  ages,  "  Remember 
that  thou  keep  holy  the  Sabbath  day ; "  and  even  the 
fragrant  offerings  of  their  devotion  are  set  aside,  that 
they  may  keep  inviolate  the  Sabbath  rest. 


xxiv.]  THE  FIRST  LORD'S  DAY.  401 


But  if  the  spices  of  the  women  are  the  spikenard 
and  myrrh  of  a  mingled  love  and  grief,  they  are  at  the 
same  time  a  tacit  admission  of  their  error.    They  prove 
conclusively  that  the  women,  at  any  rate,  had  no  thought 
of  a  resurrection.     It  appears  strange  to  us  that  such 
should  be  the  case,  after  the  frequent  references  Jesus 
made  to  His  death  and  rising  again.     But  evidently 
the  disciples  attached  to  these   sayings  of 'Jesus  one 
of  those  deeper,  farther-off  meanings  which  were   so 
characteristic    of    His    speech,    interpreting    in   some 
mysterious    spiritual    sense  what  was   intended   to  be 
read  in  a  strict  literalness.     At  present  nothing  could 
be  farther  from  their  thoughts  than  a  resurrection ;  it 
had  not  even  occurred  to  them  as  a  possible  thing; 
and  instead  of  being  something  to  which  they  were 
ready  to   give  a   credulous   assent,  or  a  myth  which 
came  all  shaped  and  winged  out  of  their  own  heated 
imaginings,  it  was  something  altogether  foreign  to  their 
thoughts,  and  which,  when  it  did  occur,  only  by  many 
infallible  proofs  was  recognized  and  admitted  into  their 
hearts  as  truth.     And  so  the  very  spices  the  women 
prepare  for  the  embalming  are  a  silent  but  a  fragrant 
testimony  to  the  reality  of  the  Resurrection.      They 
show  the  drift  of  the  disciples'  thought,  that  when  the 
stone  was  rolled  to  the  door  of  the  sepulchre  it  shut 
in  to  the  darkness,  and  buried,  all  their  hopes.     The 
only  Easter  they  knew,  or  even  dreamed  of,  v/as  that 
first  and  final  Easter  of  the  last  day. 

As  soon  as  the  restraint  of  the  Sabbath  was  over,  the 
women  turned  again  to  their  labour  of  love,  preparing 
the  ointment  and  spices  for  the  embalming,  and  coming 
with  the  early  dawn  to  the  sepulchre.  Though  it  was 
'yet  dark/'  as  St.  John  tells  us,  they  did  not  anticipate 
any  difficulty  from  the  city  gates,  for  these  were  left 

26 


402  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

open  both  by  night  and  day  during  the  Passover  feast ; 
but  the  thought  did  occur  to  them  on  the  way  as  to 
how  they  should  roll  back  the  stone,  a  task  for  which 
they  had  not  prepared,  and  which  was  evidently  beyond 
their  unaided  strength.  Their  question,  however,  had 
been  answered  in  anticipation,  for  when  they  reached 
the  garden  the  stone  was  rolled  away,  and  the  sepul- 
chre all  exposed.  Surprised  and  startled  by  the  dis- 
covery, their  surprise  deepened  into  consternation  as 
passing  within  the  sepulchre,  they  found  that  the  body 
of  Jesus,  on  which  they  had  come  to  perform  the  last 
kind  offices  of  affection,  had  disappeared.  And  how  ? 
could  there  be  more  than  one  solution  of  the  enigma? 
The  enemies  of  Jesus  had  surely  laid  violent  hands 
upon  the  tomb,  rifling  it  of  the  precious  dust  they 
sorrowfully  had  committed  to  its  keeping,  reserving  it 
for  fresh  indignities.  St.  John  supplements  the  nar- 
rative of  our  Evangelist,  telling  how  the  Magdalene, 
slipping  out  from  the  rest,  "ran"  back  to  the  city  to 
announce,  in  half-hysterical  speech,  "They  have  taken 
away  the  Lord  out  of  the  tomb,  and  we  know  not  where 
they  have  laid  Him ; "  for  though  St.  John  names  but 
the  Magdalene,  the  "  we  "  implies  that  she  was  but  one 
of  a  group  of  ministering  women,  a  group  that  she  had 
abruptly  left.  The  rest  lingered  by  the  tomb  perplexed, 
with  reason  blinded  by  the  whirling  clouds  of  doubt, 
when  suddenly — the  "  behold  "  indicates  a  swift  surprise 
— "two  men  stood  by  them  in  dazzling  apparel." 

In  speaking  of  them  as  "two  men"  probably  our  Evan- 
gelist only  intended  to  call  attention  to  the  humanness 
of  their  form,  as  in  verse  23  he  speaks  of  the  appearance 
as  "a  vision  of  angels."  It  will  be  observed,  however, 
that  in  the  New  Testament  the  two  words  "  men  "  and 
u  angels  "  are  used  interchangeably ;  as  in  St.  Luke  vil 


xxiv.]  THE  FIRST  LORD'S  DAY.  403 

24,  Rev.  xxii.  8,  where  the  "angels"  are  evidently 
men,  while  in  Mark  xvi.  5,  and  again  in  the  verse  before 
us,  the  so-called  "men"  are  angels.  But  does  not  this 
interchangeable  use  of  the  words  imply  a  close  relation 
between  the  two  orders  of  being  ?  and  is  it  not  possible 
that  in  the  eternal  ripenings  and  evolutions  of  heaven 
a  perfected  humanity  may  pass  up  into  the  angelic 
ranks?  At  any  rate,  we  do  know  that  when  angels 
have  appeared  on  earth  there  has  been  a  strange 
humanness  about  them.  They  have  not  even  had  the 
fictitious  wings  which  poetry  has  woven  for  them  ;  they 
have  nearly  always  appeared  wearing  the  human  face 
Divine,  and  speaking  with  the  tones  and  in  the  tongues 
of  men,  as  if  it  were  their  native  speech. 

But  if  their  form  is  earthly,  their  dress  is  heavenly. 
Their  garments  flash  and  glitter  like  the  robes  of  the 
transfigured  Christ;  and  awed  by  the  supernatural 
portent,  the  women  bow  down  their  faces  to  the  earth. 
"Why,"  asked  the  angels,  "seek  ye  the  living  among 
the  dead  ?  He  is  not  here,  but  is  risen  :  remember  how 
He  spake  unto  you  when  He  was  yet  in  Galilee,  saying 
that  the  Son  of  man  must  be  delivered  up  into  the 
hands  of  sinful  men,  and  be  crucified,  and  the  third  day 
rise  again."  Even  the  angels  are  not  allowed  to  dis- 
close the  secret  of  His  resurrection  life,  or  to  tell  where 
He  may  be  found,  but  they  announce  the  fact  that  they 
are  not  at  liberty  to  explain.  "He  is  not  here;  He  is 
risen,"  is  the  Gospel  of  the  angels,  a  Gospel  whose 
prelude  they  themselves  have  heard,  but,  alas!  forgotten; 
and  since  Heaven  does  not  reveal  what  by  searching 
we  ourselves  may  find  out,  the  angels  throw  them 
back  upon  their  own  recollections,  recalling  the  words 
Jesus  Himself  had  spoken,  and  which,  had  they  been 
understood  and  remembered,  would  have  lighted  up  the 


404  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

empty  sepulchre  and  have  solved  the  great  mystery. 
And  how  much  we  lose  because  we  do  not  remember, 
or  if  remembering,  we  do  not  believe !  Divine  words 
have  been  spoken,  and  spoken  to  us,  but  to  our  ear, 
dulled  by  unbelief,  they  have  come  as  empty  sound,  all 
inarticulate,  and  we  have  said  it  was  some  thunder  in 
the  sky  or  the  voices  of  a  passing  wind.  How  many 
promises,  which,  like  the  harps  of  God,  would  have 
made  even  our  wildernesses  vocal,  have  we  hung  up,  sad 
and  silent,  on  the  willows  of  the  "strange  lands"  !  If 
we  only  "  remembered "  the  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus, 
if  they  became  to  us  real  and  eternally  true,  instead  of 
being  the  unreal  voices  of  a  dream,  those  words  would 
be,  not  "the  distant  lamps"  of  Heaven,  but  near  at 
hand,  lighting  up  all  dark  places,  because  throwing 
their  light  within,  turning  even  the  graves  of  our  buried 
hopes  into  sanctuaries  of  joy  and  praise! 

And  so  the  women,  instead  of  embalming  their  Lord, 
carried  their  spices  back  unused.  Not  unused,  however, 
for  in  the  spices  and  ointments  the  Living  One  did 
not  need  their  own  names  were  embalmed,  a  fragrant 
memory.  Coming  to  the  tomb,  as  they  thought,  to  do 
homage  to  a  dead  Christ,  the  Magdalene,  and  Mary, 
and  Johanna,  and  Salome  found  a  Christ  who  had 
conquered  death,  and  at  the  same  time  found  an 
immortality  for  themselves ;  for  the  fragrance  of  their 
thought,  which  was  not  permitted  to  ripen  into  deeds, 
has  filled  the  whole  world. 

Returning  to  the  city,  whither  the  Magdalene  had 
outrun  them,  they  announced  to  the  rest,  as  she  had 
done  to  Peter  and  John,  the  fact  of  the  empty  grave ; 
but  they  completed  the  story  with  the  narrative  of  the 
angelic  vision  and  the  statement  that  Jesus  had  risen. 
So  little,  however,  were  the  disciples  predisposed  to 


xxiv.]  THE  FIRST  LORD'S  DAY.  403 

receive  the  tidings  of  a  resurrection,  they  would  not 
admit  the  fact  even  when  attested  by  at  least  four 
witnesses,  but  set  it  down  as  idle,  silly  talk,  something 
which  was  not  only  void  of  truth,  but  void  of  sense. 
Only  Peter  and  John  of  the  Apostles,  as  far  as  we 
know,  visited  the  sepulchre,  and  even  they  doubted, 
though  they  found  the  tomb  empty  and  the  linen  clothes 
carefully  wrapped  up.  They  "  believed  "  that  the  body 
had  disappeared,  but,  as  St.  John  tells  us,  "as  yet  they 
knew  not  the  Scripture,  that  He  must  rise  again  from 
the  dead  "  (St.  John  xx.  9) ;  and  as  they  leave  the  empty 
grave  to  return  to  their  own  home,  they  only  "  wondered 
at  that  which  was  come  to  pass."  It  was  an  enigma 
they  could  not  solve;  and  though  the  Easter  morning 
had  now  fully  broke,  the  day  which  should  light  all 
days,  as  it  drew  to  itself  the  honours  and  songs  of  the 
Sabbath,  yet  to  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  Apostles  it 
was  "yet  dark;"  the  glory  of  the  Lord  had  not  yet 
risen  upon  them. 

And  now  comes  one  of  those  beautiful  pictures, 
peculiar  to  St.  Luke,  as  he  lights  up  the  Judoean  hills 
with  a  soft  afterglow,  an  afterglow  which  at  the  same  time 
is  the  aurora  of  a  new  dawn.  It  was  in  the  afternoon 
of  that  first  Lord's  day,  when  two  disciples  set  out  from 
Jerusalem  for  Emmaus,  a  village,  probably  the  modern 
Khamasa^sixty  furlongs  from  the  city.  Who  the  two 
disciples  were  we  cannot  say,  for  one  is  unnamed, 
while  the  other  bears  a  name,  Cleopas,  we  do  not  meet 
with  elsewhere,  though  its  Greek  origin  would  lead  us 
to  infer  that  he  was  some  Gentile  proselyte  who  had 
attached  himself  to  Jesus.  As  to  the  second,  we  have 
not  even  the  clue  of  an  obscure  name  with  which  to 
identify  him,  and  in  this  somewhat  strange  anonymity 
some  expositors  have  thought  they  detected  the  shadow 


t 


406  THE   GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

of  the  Evangelist,  Luke,  himself.  The  supposition  is 
not  an  impossible  one ;  for  though  St.  Luke  was  not  an 
eye-witness  from  the  beginning,  he  might  have  witnessed 
some  of  the  closing  scenes  of  the  Divine  life ;  while  the 
very  minuteness  of  detail  which  characterizes  his  story 
would  almost  show  that  if  not  himself  a  participant,  he 
was  closely  related  to  those  who  were ;  but  had  St.  Luke 
himself  been  the  favoured  one,  it  is  scarcely  likely 
that  he  would  have  omitted  this  personal  testimony 
when  speaking  of  the  "many  infallible  proofs"  of  His 
resurrection. 

Whoever  the  two  might  be,  it  is  certain  that  they 
enjoyed  the  esteem  and  confidence  of  the  disciples, 
having  free  access,  even  at  untimely  hours,  to  the 
Apostolic  circle,  while  the  fact  that  Jesus  Himself 
sought  their  company,  and  selected  them  to  such 
honours,  shows  the  high  place  which  was  accorded  to 
them  in  the  Divine  regard. 

We  are  not  apprised  of  the  object  of  their  journey ; 
indeed,  they  themselves  seem  to  have  lost  sight  of  that 
in  the  gleams  of  glory  which,  all  unexpected,  fell  across 
their  path.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  it  was  connected 
with  recent  events;  for  now  that  the  central  Sun, 
around  whom  their  lives  revolved,  has  disappeared, 
will  not  those  lives  necessarily  take  new  directions, 
or  drift  back  into  the  old  orbits  ?  But  whatever  their 
purposes  might  be,  their  thoughts  are  retrospective 
rather  th,an  prospective;  for  while  their  faces  are  set 
towards  Emmaus,  and  their  feet  are  steadily  measuring 
( ff  the  furlongs  of  the  journey,  their  thoughts  are 
lingering  behind,  clinging  to  the  dark  crest  of  Calvary, 
as  the  cloud-pennon  clings  to  the  Alpine  peak.  They 
can  speak  but  of  one  theme,  "these  things  which  have 
happened  : "  the  One  whom  they  took  to  be  the  Christy 


txiv.]  THE  FIRST  LORD'S  DAY.  407 

to  whom  their  hearts  had   been  so  strangely  drawn; 
His  character,  miracles,  and  words;    the  ignominious 
Death,  in  which  that  Life,  with  all  their  hopes,  was 
quenched;    and    then   the  strange   tidings  which    had 
been  brought  by  the  women,  as  to  how  they  had  found 
the  grave  empty,  and  how  they  had  seen  a  vision  of 
angels.     The   word   "questioned    together"    generally/ 
implies  a  difference  of  opinion,  and  refers  to  the  cross-  ] 
questioning  of  disputants ;  but  in  this  case  it  probably  /W 
referred  only  to  the  innumerable  questions  the  report  of  ? 
the  Resurrection  would  raise  in  their  minds,  the  honest  / 
doubts  and  difficulties  with  which  they  felt  themselves 
compelled  to  grapple. 

It  was  while  they  were  discussing  these  new  prob- 
lems, walking  leisurely  along  the  road — for  men  walk 
heavily  when  weighted  at  the  heart — a  Stranger  over- 
took and  joined  them,  asking,  after  the  usual  salutation, 
which  would  not  be  omitted,  "What  communications 
are  these  that  ye  have  one  with  another,  as  ye 
walk  ?  "  The  very  form  of  the  question  would  help 
to  disguise  the  familiar  voice,  while  the  changed 
"  form "  of  which  St.  Mark  speaks  would  somewhat 
mask  the  familiar  features  ;  but  at  the  same  time  it 
would  appear  that  there  was  a  supernatural  holding  of 
their  eyes,  as  if  a  dusky  veil  were  wrapped  about  the  f 
Stranger.  His  question  startled  them,  even  as  a  voice/ 
from  another  world,  as,  indeed,  it  seemed  ;  and  stopping/ 
suddenly,  they  turned  their  "  sad  "  faces  to  the  Stranger 
in  a  momentary  and  silent  astonishment,  a  silence 
which  Cleopas  broke  by  asking,  "Dost  thou  alone 
sojourn  in  Jerusalem,  and  not  know  the  things  which 
aie  come  to  pass  there  in  these  days?"  a  double 
question,  to  which  the  stranger  replied  with  the  brief 
interrogative,  "  What  things  ?"    It  needed  no  more  than 


408  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

that  solitary  word  to  unseal  the  fountain  of  their  lips 
for  the  clouds  which  had  broken  so  wildly  and  darkly 
over  Calvary  had  filled  their  hearts  with  an  intense  and 
bitter  grief,  which  longed  for  expression,  even  for  the 
poor  relief  of  words.  And  so  they  break  in  together 
with  their  answer  (the  pronoun  is  changed  now), 
"  Concerning  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  which  was  a  Prophet 
mighty  in  deed  and  word  before  God  and  all  the  people  : 
and  how  the  chief  priests  and  our  rulers  delivered  Him 
up  to  be  condemned  to  death,  and  crucified  Him.  But 
we  hoped  that  it  was  He  which  should  redeem  Israel. 
Yea,  and  beside  all  this,  it  is  now  the  third  day  since 
these  things  came  to  pass.  Moreover  certain  women 
of  our  company  amazed  us,  having  been  early  at  the 
tomb ;  and  when  they  found  not  His  body,  they  came, 
saying,  that  they  had  also  seen  a  vision  of  angels,  which 
said  that  He  was  alive.  And  certain  of  them  that  were 
with  us  went  to  the  tomb,  and  found  it  even  so  as  the 
women  had  said :  but  Him  they  saw  not." 

It  is  the  impetuous  language  of  intense  feeling,  in 
which  hope  and  despair  strike  alternate  chords.  In 
the  first  strain  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  lifted  high ;  He  is 
a  Prophet  mighty  in  word  and  deed  ;  then  He  is  stricken 
down,  condemned  to  death,  and  crucified.  Again,  hope 
speaks,  recalling  the  bright  dream  of  a  redemption  for 
Israel ;  but  having  spoken  that  word,  Hope  herself 
goes  aside  to  weep  by  the  grave  where  her  Redeemer 
was  hurriedly  buried.  Still  again  is  the  glimmer  of  a 
new  light,  as  the  women  bring  home  the  message  of 
the  angels ;  but  still  again  the  light  sets  in  darkness, 
a  gloom  which  neither  the  eyes  of  Reason  nor  of  Faith 
could  as  yet  pierce  ;  for  "  Him  they  saw  not "  marks 
the  totality  of  the  eclipse,  pointing  to  a  void  of  darkness, 
a  firmament  without  a  sun  or  star. 


xxiv.]  THE  FIRST  LORD'S  DAY.  409 

But  incidentally,  in  the  swift  current  of  their  speech, 
we  catch  a  reflection  of  the  Christ  as  He  appeared  to 
their  minds.  He  was  indeed  a  Prophet,  second  to 
none,  and  in  their  hope  He  was  more,  for  He  was  the 
Redeemer  of  Israel.  It  is  evident  the  disciples  had 
not  yet  grasped  the  full  purport  of  the  Messianic 
mission.  Their  thought  was  hazy,  obscure,  like  the 
visibrToF  men  walking  in  a  mist.  The  Hebrew  dream* 
oi^tejjQp^rjJ  sovereignty  seems  to  have  been  a  pre-] 
vailing,  perhaps  the  prevailing  force  in  their  minds,  the 
attraction  which  drew  and  cheered  them  on.  But  their 
Redeemer  was  but  a  local,  temporal  one,  who  will 
restore  the  kingdom  to  Israel ;  He  was  not  yet  the 
Redeemer  of  the  world,  who  should  save  His  people 
from  their  sins.  The  "  regeneration,"  as  they  fondly 
called  it,  the  "  new  creation,"  was  purely  national,  when 
out  of  the  chaos  of  Roman  irruptions  their  Hebrew 
paradise  will  come.  For  one  thing,  the  disciples  were 
too  near  the  Divine  life  to  see  its  just  and  large  pro- 
portions. They  must  stand  back  from  it  the  distance 
of  a  Pentecost ;  they  must  look  on  it  through  their 
lenses  of  flame,  before  they  can  take  in  the  profound 
meaning  of  that  Life,  or  the  awful  mystery  of  that 
Death.  At  present  their  vision  is  out  of  focus,  and  all 
they  can  see  is  the  blurred  and  shadowy  outline  of 
the  reality,  the  temporal  rather  than  the  spiritual,  a 
redeemed  nationality  rather  than  a  redeemed  and  re- 
generated humanity. 

The  risen  Jesus,  for  such  the  Stranger  wTas,  though 
they  knew  it  not,  listened  to  their  requiem  patiently 
and  wonderingly,  glad  to  find  within  their  hearts  such 
deep  and  genuine  love,  which  even  the  cross  and  the 
grave  had  not  been  able  to  extinguish.  The  men 
themselves  were  true,  even  though  their  views  were 


4io  THE  GOSPEL   OF  ST.  LUKE. 

somewhat  warped — the  refractions  of  their  Hebrew 
atmosphere.  And  Jesus  leads  them  in  thought  to 
those  "  shining  uplands  "  of  truth  ;  as  it  were,  spurring 
them  on,  by  a  sharp  though  kind  rebuke,  to  the  heights 
where  Divine  thoughts  and  purposes  move  on  to  their 
fulfilment.  "  O  foolish  men,"  He  said,  u  and  slow  of 
heart  to  believe  in  all  that  the  prophets  have  spoken ! 
Behoved  it  not  the  Christ  to  suffer  these  things,  and  to 
enter  into  His  glory  ?  "  They  thought  He  was  some 
stranger  in  Jerusalem,  yet  He  knows  their  prophets 
better  than  themselves ;  and  hark,  He  puts  in  a  word 
they  had  feared  to  use.  They  only  called  Him  "Jesus 
of  Nazareth ; "  they  did  not  give  Him  that  higher  title 
of  "the  Christ"  which  they  had  freely  used  before. 
No;  for  the  cross  had  rudely  shattered  and  broken 
^hat  golden  censer,  in  which  the}'  had  been  wont  to 
burn  a  royal  incense.  But  here  the  Stranger  recasts 
their  broken,  golden  word,  burning  its  sweet,  Divine 
incense  even  in  presence  of  the  cross,  calling  the 
Crucified  the  "  Christ "  !  Verily,  this  Stranger  has 
more  faith  than  they ;  and  they  still  their  garrulous 
lips,  which  speak  so  randomly,  to  hear  the  new  and 
august  Teacher,  whose  voice  was  an  echo  of  the  Truth, 
if  not  the  Truth  itself ! 
I  "And  beginning  from  Moses  and  from  all  the  prophets, 
7/He  interpreted  to  them  in  all  the  Scriptures  the  things 
l\  concerning  Himself."  It  will  be  observed  that  our 
Evangelist  uses  a  peculiar  word  in  speaking  of  this 
Divine  exposition.  He  calls  it  an  "interpretation," 
a  word  used  in  the  New  Testament  only  in  the  sense 
of  translating  from  one  language  to  another,  from  the 
unknown  to  the  known  tongue.  And  such,  indeed,  it 
was;  for  they  had  read  the  Scriptures  but  in  part, 
and  so  misread  them.     They  had  thrown  upon  those 


xxiv.)  THE  FIRST  LORD'S  DAY.  411 

Scriptures  the  projections  of  their  own  hopes  and  j 
illusions;  while  other  Scriptures,  those  relating  to  the  ' 
sufferings  of  Christ,  were  set  back,  out  of  sight,  or  if 
heard  at  all,  they  were  only  the  voice  of  an  unknown 
tongue,  a  vox  et  prcterea  nihil.  So  Jesus  interprets  to 
them  the  voices  of  this  unknown  tongue.  Beginning 
at  Moses,  He  shows,  from  the  types,  the  prophecies, 
and  the  Psalms,  how  that  the  Christ  must  suffer  and 
die,  ere  the  glories  of  His  kingdom  can  begin  ;  that 
the  cross  and  the  grave  both  lay  in  the  path  of 
the  Redeemer,  as  the  bitter  and  prickly  calyx  out  of 
which  the  "  glories "  should  unfold  themselves.  And 
thus,  opening  their  Scriptures,  putting  in  the  crimson 
lens  of  the  blood,  as  well  as  the  chromatic  lens  of  the 
Messianic  glory,  the  disciples  find  the  cross  all  trans- 
figured, inwoven  in  God's  eternal  purpose  of  redemption; 
while  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  at  which  they  had 
stumbled  before,  they  now  see  wrere  part  of  the  eternal 
plan  of  mercy,  a  Divine  "  ought,"  a  great  necessity. 

They  had  now  reached  Emmaus,  the  limit  of  their 
journey,  but  the  two  disciples  cannot  lose  the  company  I 
of  One  whose  words  have  opened  to  them  a  new  and  / 
a  bright  world  ;  and  though  He  was  evidently  going 
on  farther,  they  constrained  Him  to  abide  with  them, 
as  it  was  towards  evening  and  the  day  was  far  spent. 
And  He  went  in  to  tarry  with  them,  though  not  for 
long.  Sitting  down  to  meat,  the  Slranger  Guest, 
without  any  apology,  takes  the  place  of  the  host,  and 
blessing  the  bread,  He  breaks  and  gives  to  them. 
Was  it  the  uplifted  face  threw  them  back  on  the  old, 
familiar  days  ?  or  did  they  read  the  nail-mark  in 
His  hand?  We  do  not  know;  but  in  an  instant  the 
veil  in  which  He  had  enfolded  Himself  was  withdrawn, 
snd  they  knew  Him  :  it  was  the  Lord   Himself,  the 


4! 2  THE  GOSPEL  OF  ST.  LUKE. 

risen  Jesus !  In  a  moment  the  hush  of  a  great  awe 
fell  upon  them,  and  before  they  had  time  to  embrace 
Him  whom  they  had  loved  so  passionately,  indeed 
before  their  lips  could  frame  an  exclamation  of  surprise, 
He  had  vanished;  He  "  became  invisible"  to  them,  as 
it  reads,  passing  out  of  their  sight  like  a  dissolving 
cloud.  And  when  they  did  recover  themselves  it  was 
not  to  speak  His  name — there  was  no  need  of  that— 
but  to  say  one  to  another,  "Was  not  our  heart  burning 
within,  us  while  He  spake  to  us  in  the  way,  while  He 
opened  to  us  the  Scriptures?"  It  was  to  them  a 
bright  Apocalypse,  "the  Revelation  of  Jesus  Christ," 
who  was  dead,  and  is  alive  for  evermore  ;  and  all- 
forgetful  of  their  errand,  and  though  it  is  evening,  they 
leave  Emmaus  at  once,  their  winged  feet  not  heeding 
the  sixty  furlongs  now,  as  they  haste  to  Jerusalem  to 
i  announce  to  the  eleven,  and  to  the  rest,  that  Jesus  has 
I  indeed  arisen,  and  has  appeared  unto  them. 

Returning  to  Jerusalem,  they  go  direct  to  the  well- 
known  trysting-place,  where  they  find  the  Apostles 
("  the  eleven  "  as  the  band  was  now  called,  though, 
as  St.  John  informs  us,  Thomas  was  not  present)  and 
others  gathered  for  their  evening  meal,  and  speaking 
of  another  and  later  appearance  of  Jesus  to  Simon, 
which  must  have  occurred  during  their  absence  from 
the  city ;  and  they  add  to  the  growing  wonder  by 
telling  of  their  evening  adventure,  and  how  Jesus  was 
known  of  them  in  breaking  of  bread.  But  while  they 
discussed  the  subject — for  the  majority  were  yet  in 
doubt  as  to  the  reality  of  the  appearances — Jesus  Him- 
self stood  before  them,  passing  through  the  fastened 
door;  for  the  same  fear  that  shut  the  door  would 
securly  lock  it.  Though  giving  to  them  the  old-time 
salutation,    "  Peace  be   to   you,"   it  did   not   calm   the 


xx iv.]  THE  FIRST  LORDS  DAY.  413 


unrest  and  agitation  of  their  soul ;  the  chill  of  a  great 
fear  fell  upon  them,  as  the  spectral  Shadow,  as  they 
thought  it,  stood  before  them.  "  Why  are  ye  troubled  ?  " 
asks  Jesus,  "and  wherefore  do  reasonings  arise  in 
your  hearts  ? "  for  they  fairly  trembled  with  fear,  as 
the  word  would  imply.  "See  My  hands  and  My  feet, 
that  it  is  I  Myself:  handle  Me,  and  see;  for  a  spirit 
hath  not  flesh  and  bones,  as  ye  behold  Me  having."  He 
then  extended  I  lis  hands,  drew  back  His  robe  from  His 
feet,  and,  as  St.  John  says,  uncovered  His  side,  that 
they  might  see  the  wounds  of  the  nails  and  the  spear, 
and  that  by  these  visible,  tangible  proofs  they  might 
be  convinced  of  the  reality  of  His  Resurrection  body. 
It  was  enough;  their  hearts  in  an  instant  swung  round 
from  an  extreme  of  fear  to  an  extreme  of  joy,  a  sort 
of  wild  joy,  in  which  Reason  for  the  moment  became 
confused,  and  Faith  bewildered.  But  while  the  heavenly 
trance  is  yet  upon  them  Jesus  recalls  them  to  earthly 
things,  asking  if  they  have  any  meat;  and  when  they 
give  Him  a  piece  of  a  broiled  fioh,  some  of  the  remnants 
of  their  own  repast,  He  takes  and  eats  before  them  all ; 
not  that  now  He  needed  the  sustenance  of  earthly  food, 
in  His  resurrection  life,  but  that  by  this  simple  act  He 
might  put  another  seal  upon  His  true  humanity.  It 
was  a  kind  of  sacrament,  showing  forth  His  oneness 
with  His  own  ;  that  on  the  farther  side  of  the  grave, 
in  His  exaltation,  as  on  this,  in  His  humiliation,  He  was 
still  the  "Son  of  man,"  interested  in  all  things,  even 
the  commonplaces,  of  humanity. 

The  interview  was  not  for  long,  for  the  risen  Christ 
dwelt  apart  from  His  disciples,  coming  to  them  at 
uncertain  times  and  only  for  brief  spaces.  He  lingers, 
however,  now,  to  explain  to  the  eleven,  as  before  to 
the  two,  the  great  mystery  of  the   Redemption.       He 


414  TFE   GOSPEL    OF  57     HIKE. 


opens  their  minds,  that  the  truth  may  pass  within. 
Gathering  up  the  lamps  of  prophecy  suspended  through 
the  Scriptures,  He  turns  their  varying  lights  upon 
Himself,  the  Me  of  whom  they  testify.  He  shows 
them  how  it  is  written  in  their  law  that  the  Christ 
must  suffer,  the  Christ  must  die,  the  Christ  must 
rise  again  the  third  day,  and  "  that  repentance  and 
remission  of  sins  should  be  preached  in  His  name  unto 
all  the  nations,  beginning  from  Jerusalem."  And  then 
He  gave  to  these  preachers  of  repentance  and  remission 
the  promise  of  which  the  Book  of  the  Acts  is  a  fulfil- 
ment and  enlargement,  the  "promise  of  the  Father," 
which  is  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  It  was  the 
prophecy  of  the  Pentecost,  the  first  rustle  of  the 
mighty  rushing  wind,  that  Divine  breath  which  comes 
to  all  who  will  receive  it. 

Our  Evangelist  passes  in  silence  other  appearances 
of  the  Resurrection  Life,  those  forty  days  in  which,  by 
His  frequent  manifestations,  He  was  training  His  dis- 
ciples to  trust  in  His  unseen  Presence.  He  only  in  a 
few  closing  words  tells  of  the  Ascension  ;  how,  near 
Bethany,  He  was  parted  from  them,  and  taken  up  into 
heaven,  throwing  down  benedictions  from  His  uplifted 
hands  even  as  He  went ;  and  how  the  disciples  returned 
to  Jerusalem,  not  sorrowing,  as  men  bereaved,  but  with 
great  joy,  having  learned  now  to  endure  and  rejoice 
as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible,  the  unseen  but  ever- 
present  Christ.  That  St.  Luke  omits  the  other  Resur- 
rection appearances  is  probably  because  he  intended 
to  insert  them  in  his  prelude  to  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles, 
which  he  does,  as  he  joins  his  second  treatise  to  the 
first.  Nor  is  it  altogether  an  incidental  coincidence 
that  as  he  writes  his  later  story  he  begins  at  Jeru- 
salem,   ingering   in   the   upper   room    which   was  the 


xxiv.]  THE  FIRST  LORD'S  DAY.  4*5 

wind-rocked  cradle  of  the  Church,  and  inserting  as 
key-words  of  the  new  story  these  four  words  from 
the  old  :  Repentance,  Remission,  Promise,  Power.  The 
two  books  are  thus  one,  a  seamless  robe,  woven  for 
the  living  Christ,  the  one  giving  us  the  Christ  of  the 
Humiliation,  the  other  the  Christ  of  the  Exaltation, 
who  speaks  now  from  the  upper  heavens,  and  whose 
power  is  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

And  was  it  altogether  undesigned  that  our  Evan- 
gelist, omitting  other  appearances  of  the  forty  days, 
yet  throws  such  a  wealth  of  interest  and  of  colouring 
into  that  first  Easter  day,  filling  it  up  from  its  early 
dawn  to  its  late  evening?  We  think  not.  He  is 
writing  to  and  for  the  Gentiles,  whose  Sabbaths  are 
not  on  the  last  but  on  the  first  day  of  the  week,  and 
he  stays  to  picture  for  us  that  first  Lord's  day,  the 
day  chosen  by  the  Lord  of  the  Sabbath  for  this  high 
consecration.  And  as  the  Holy  Church  throughout 
all  the  world  keeps  her  Sabbaths  now,  her  anthems 
and  songs  are  a  sweet  incense  burned  by  the  door  of 
the  empty  sepulchre ;  for,  "  The  light  which  threw  the 
glory  of  the  Sabbath  into  the  shade  was  the  glory  of 
the  Risen  Lord." 


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The  Gospel  according  to  St.  Luke ... 

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